


Devils Don't Fly

by Katranga



Category: Glee
Genre: Demon Deals, Demon!Blaine, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katranga/pseuds/Katranga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt’s dad has been in a coma for three months and things aren’t looking up. A demon agrees to help him, for a price. What neither of them bet on is ever seeing each other again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a one shot I wrote a few years ago, and I finally got around to writing out the entire story I had planned!  
> Title from the Natalia Kills song.

“Dance with a demon?”

Blaine had appeared in front of the man suddenly, obviously startling him. He grinned slyly at the stranger and wrapped his hands around his hips, pulling him closer.

The man’s jaw dropped open just enough to expose his pink tongue.

“You’re- you’re a-?” He swallowed, unable to utter the word even though he’d come to a social where he’d known there would be plenty. “You can help me?” he finally asked, voice low.

“For the right price,” Blaine winked, running his palms firmly up and down the man’s sides. It set him squirming. “So what’s your problem? Wife die and you wanna bring her back?”

“Uh- no.”

“Girlfriend run off with your boss and you want revenge?” he asked, fishing.

“No- I- I’m gay.”

“Great.” His grin turned wolfish as he stepped closer, feeling the heat radiating off of the other man’s body. “What’s your name?”

“Kurt. Kurt Hummel,” he replied in a high voice, cheeks flushed.

“Kurt. You can call me Blaine. What do you need fixed?”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “My dad, he- he had a second heart attack. He’s been in a coma for three months and I don’t know what to do I- I…” His eyes returned to Blaine’s face, glimmering with unshed tears. “Can you help him?”

Blaine tried to ignore how completely desperate he looked. As if this was his last hope and he didn’t even expect it to work. “Yeah, yeah,” he assured him, squeezing his hips in what he meant to be a comforting gesture but just made Kurt look uncomfortable. “Calm down, I can wake him up.”

“R-really?” his voice hitched. “The nurses said he’d probably have brain damage if he woke up, can that be fixed too? I mean, it’s fine if you can’t but if you could, if you could just make him completely healthy, I’d do anything-”

“Anything?” he cut in with a raised brow.

A distressed look crossed his face, and he bit his bottom lip before nodding slowly. “I really think I could.”

His smile widened slowly. “Okay. Kurt Hummel, I’ll help you.”

“What do I have to do?” he asked, barely audible.

Blaine skipped the dramatic pause; those were for amateurs. And besides, it looked like Kurt himself would have a heart attack if he had any more stress put on him. So he said simply, “Have sex with me.” And waited for his response.

He gaped. “H-have sex. With you?”

He nodded, hands coming to a rest at the small of Kurt’s back, just above the swell of his ass. “Not much to have your father back, right?”

Kurt licked his lips nervously, looking anywhere but Blaine’s face. “I suppose so… Just the once?” he questioned, worried blue eyes meeting Blaine’s again.

He nodded.

“So we just… we have sex and you heal my dad? And he’ll be fine?” he confirmed, forehead wrinkled with thought.

“I’ll even clear up any pre-existing heart condition he has so the likeliness of another attack will be greatly reduced.” He felt like an infomercial announcer, but he wanted Kurt to accept and he didn’t quite understand his hesitance. Blaine had done much less in exchange for much more before; Kurt was getting a great deal.

He let out a slow breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay,” he repeated in a steadier voice. “Um, when-?”

“Now’s fine.”

He gripped Kurt tighter and transported them to his room in a puff of smoke.

Kurt pulled away, coughing into his fist. “Was I just _smoke_?” he squeaked incredulously.

“Fastest way to travel,” Blaine replied, walking over to his alcohol cabinet. He lifted up a bottle of perfectly aged scotch. “Drink?”

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head, taking in the rest of the room. It was large, set with mood lighting and decorated in deep reds and browns, with a king size bed against the wall.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, setting the bottle down and returning to Kurt. He brushed his fingers against Kurt’s cheek and he flinched in surprise. “Don’t worry. We can go slow.”

Blaine cupped Kurt’s jaw and he stilled completely, but his eyes slid shut so Blaine pressed forward. He captured Kurt’s lips, soft and sweet against his own.

When Blaine had first seen Kurt, he assumed he was an angel because he was so beautiful. He’d thought the ‘holier’ beings had finally decided to shut down the demons’ monthly mixer with the humans. However, after a few minutes of observation, he’d noticed little imperfections and human mannerisms that angels never had. He’d approached him almost immediately thereafter, excited at the prospect of being able to touch him, to run his hands over his body, to make him fall apart.

Except now Kurt wasn’t moving.

He pulled back with a short sigh. “Kurt.”

“What?”

“You aren’t doing anything.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You should be. If I wanted to have relations with an inanimate object, I’d get a cantaloupe.”

“That’s disgusting,” he grimaced.

“Don’t be a cantaloupe,” he insisted, pointing a warning finger at him.

“Well what- I just-” he stuttered, frustrated. “What do you _want_?”

Blaine was slightly disappointed. He thought it had been rather obvious. “Kiss me back,” he said. He took one of Kurt’s hands and placed it on the back of his own neck. “Touch me a little.” He leaned forward and kissed him again. “Pretend I’m someone else if you need to,” he murmured against his mouth.

They kissed for a while, Blaine greedily devouring his lips and Kurt responding softly. Eventually, his fingers scratched through the hair at the base of Blaine’s neck, making him groan. He pulled back for a quick breath of air and then dove back in, licking into Kurt’s warm mouth.

Kurt’s shoulders were broad and hard under Blaine’s palms, and he smoothed his hands down the curve of his spine, before softly squeezing the round globes of his ass.

Kurt squeaked, jerking back.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, though he was pretty sure he hadn’t.

“No. I was just… surprised,” he replied, cheeks red and lips swollen.

He looked delectable.

“’S okay,” Blaine muttered before surging forward again, moving his hands to Kurt’s hips if it made him more comfortable. Honestly, Blaine wouldn’t mind just kissing Kurt for a while longer. He liked trying to elicit more of a reaction from him, running his hands over his back, just feeling Kurt’s arms around him.

Kurt pulled back after a minute, eyes shifting nervously. “Are we not going to… move to the bed?” he asked.

“If you want,” he said, a smirk tingeing his lips.

“I um… yes,” he said uncertainly. Blaine could tell that he was just saying what he thought Blaine wanted to hear, and that Kurt wanted this over with. He wasn’t really sure why Kurt wasn’t enjoying himself; something to do with morals or fear, probably. Blaine was never good at understanding the complexities of human emotion. He tried though, which was more than he could say for most demons.

He took Kurt’s hand and led him to the bed. Kurt sat rigidly against the abundance of pillows populating the headboard as Blaine shed his suit jacket, slipped off his bowtie and undid the first few buttons of his dress shirt. He had dressed to impress, and so had Kurt.

Blaine crept onto the mattress and straddled his thighs, warm and solid underneath his own. Blaine traced his high cheekbones with his fingertips and he could see his pulse quivering unsteadily in his throat. But Kurt was his to touch for the night, and he planned to take full advantage of the opportunity.

He started undoing the buttons of Kurt’s vest as he began kissing him again. Kurt leaned into the kiss, reciprocating obediently.

He’d removed his vest and was halfway through undoing his shirt when Kurt tore his mouth away to ask, “I’m not gonna get any diseases from you, am I?”

“No,” Blaine replied, slightly amused. “Demon diseases aren’t transmittable to humans. Not that I have any. This isn’t my usual form of collecting payment.”

“Oh, I’m just lucky then,” he muttered under his breath.

Anger flared suddenly in Blaine’s chest because _yes_ , he was lucky. In one swift move, he yanked Kurt down from his leaning position on the pillows onto the flat of the mattress and pinned his hands above his head with one hand.

“Yes, actually,” he growled into his ear. He could feel Kurt’s heart pumping against his chest, his breathing coming out in short pants from his fear. He flexed his fingers around Kurt’s wrists, trying to not let his fierce irritation overwhelm him and mostly failing. “I’m trying to be nice. You know how I took my last payment? They promised me their _soul_. For _eternity_. Would you prefer I do that? I can, I can take it right now and you can leave this bed.”

His free hand came to a rest against Kurt’s violently heaving chest, right above his heart. His suddenly black eyes were reflected back in Kurt’s wide, shining ones as he slowly started to tug Kurt’s soul from his body. Kurt’s nails dug into Blaine’s wrists as he experienced an overwhelming coldness seeping into his bones. Blaine knew it was the last thing anybody ever felt before they lost their soul. Apparently it was horrible; being the most terrified they’d ever been in their life before never feeling anything again.

“Please- please, don’t I- I’ll do whatever you want, _stop_ ,” Kurt gasped, spasming violently in Blaine’s hold.

He lifted his hand off his chest, letting Kurt’s soul snap back into his body. Kurt gulped in deep breaths of air, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears from flowing, maybe to try to shut out the situation entirely.

“It’s your choice, Kurt,” he said lowly, blinking away the darkness in his eyes. “You can leave now, before anything happens, and that will be completely fine. I will not be angry, I will not enact any form of vengeance against you. You can leave here without fulfilling your part of the deal and all that will happen is that I won’t fulfill my part either. Your father will still be in a coma.”

Kurt was shivering beneath him, very slight tremors, and even Blaine could tell that he was scared. He was trying to be comforting but Kurt was still terrified and he didn’t know what to say to make anything better. Maybe there were no words he could say that would soothe Kurt.

He released the grip he had on his wrists and continued in a softer tone. “Or you can stay, we can have sex, and I’ll heal your father. The decision is not a complicated one, but it’s yours.”

Blaine waited a few moments while Kurt thought, his eyes still closed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, but when he opened his eyes they were steady. “I’ll stay,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you sure?” Blaine asked, because he didn’t want to have to think of himself as the bad guy. He knew he was, he wasn’t delusional, but if he could fool himself for an hour into thinking he wasn’t as evil as he could be, he’d take it.

“Yes,” he said, voice reedy. “You may continue.”

Blaine kept Kurt’s gaze as he deftly undid the rest of Kurt’s shirt, splaying his fingers across his bare chest after he removed it. Kurt shuddered at the memory of Blaine taking his soul just minutes before, and Blaine lightly dragged his nails over one of his nipples instead. There was a sharp intake of breath before Kurt bit his lip to trap the noise.

He lowered his head to Kurt’s chest, licking his left nipple curiously. Determined to not let Blaine see that he was getting any sort of enjoyment out of it, Kurt’s teeth sunk deeper into his bottom lip. Blaine could have just told him that he wanted to hear him, and forced him to let the noises go, but he didn’t mind a challenge.

He sucked the nipple into his mouth, worrying it between his teeth before laving over it soothingly. He licked his way up to his clavicle, sucking the light sheen of sweat off his skin. Kurt’s pulse jumped beneath his lips as he mouthed over his neck, pausing to suck at the skin and smirk in triumph as Kurt tilted his head back, granting him more access.

He was so responsive once he let himself be. Blaine couldn’t wait to watch him fall apart. He returned to Kurt’s mouth, soft and hot and wet beneath his own frenzied lips. He could feel Kurt’s jaw moving lazily underneath his palm as he kissed him back. Their tongues brushed and Blaine shifted his body to properly chase it, causing another body part of his to brush against Kurt’s.

Blaine kissed the corner of Kurt’s mouth. “Enjoying yourself?” Blaine hummed, grinding down purposefully against Kurt’s half-hard cock.

Kurt bit down _hard_ on Blaine’s bottom lip in surprise, leaving Blaine groaning loudly.

“Can- can we just get this over with?” Kurt panted once he’d released his lip.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replied lowly. He could tell from the twist in Kurt’s lips that he wanted to retort with something sarcastic and negative, but he held back. Blaine smirked as he leaned back and removed his own shirt. “You’re going to have to touch me, though,” he added conversationally.

Kurt glared at him and tentatively raised his hands to Blaine’s hips.

 “That’s a start,” he murmured, lips brushing his jaw. He ran his own hands down Kurt’s torso, coming to a stop at his belt buckle. Kurt’s fingers twitched against Blaine’s skin. “‘Getting it over with’ means ridding you of these sinfully tight jeans, you know.”

“Uh huh,” he agreed breathlessly.

Blaine’s mouth twitched into a smile. He slid one hand onto his stomach and dropped the other one lower to cup Kurt’s cock through the denim.

Kurt gasped, hips jerking up before he forced himself to still.

“Mm, have I mentioned how gorgeous you are?” Blaine asked, palming Kurt and watching his face contort exquisitely while he tried to hide how Blaine was affecting him.

Kurt just shook his head, hair a wild halo around his face.

“How rude of me to have let that slip my mind. You’re very nearly divine.”

He looked up at him from under his lashes, unconsciously sultry. “Only _nearly_?” he asked dryly, doing his best to keep his composure.

Blaine nodded, starting to unbuckle Kurt’s belt. “And I’ll thank every deity I can that you aren’t a true angel. Because then I wouldn’t be able to do this.” He slipped his hand into Kurt’s underwear and grasped his cock firmly around the base.

“Fuck,” Kurt hissed, bucking up into his fist.

He was pleased with Kurt’s reactions, and that he was able to _make_ Kurt feel good. Blaine slowly stroked him in the tight confines of his jeans, then realized how impractical that was and transported his jeans and underwear away.

“Hey!” Kurt sat straight up, slapping Blaine’s hand away from his dick. “Where did my pants go?”

Blaine held back a chuckle at the outraged look on Kurt’s face, a contrast to his pink cheeks and mussed hair.

“Those were from McQueen’s newest collection, and if you just _burned them off my body_ , I swear you’ll have something worse than the fires of hell to fear.”

“Wow,” he said, mouth a perfect ‘O’. “Is it weird that I’m incredibly turned on right now?”

“Where are my pants?” he asked, eyes narrowed and deadly.

“They’re right over there, safe and sound,” he said, pointing to the dresser on the far side of the room. “I just thought getting them off that way would be faster than peeling them off your legs.”

Both of them had been distracted from Kurt’s nakedness due to his rage, but as soon as Blaine’s gaze landed on his lap, Kurt squeaked and snapped his legs up to his chest.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he smiled, lightly touching his knee. “There’s no need to be shy.”

“I feel like this is an imbalance?” His reply was half statement, half question.

Blaine raised an eyebrow and grinned wickedly. “Would you like to do the honours?” he asked, gesturing at his still-clothed lower body.

He bit his lip ( _so beautiful_ ) and then nodded. “Fine. Lay down.”

“As you wish,” he agreed, amused, as he made himself comfortable against the pillows next to Kurt.

He took a fortifying breath and then uncurled himself from his fetal position, kneeling beside Blaine and making quick work of his zipper. Blaine watched, mesmerized, as Kurt’s thick cock bobbed against his leg while he efficiently pulled his pants down and off.

“Commando, why am I not surprised?” Kurt muttered, face maybe a little pinker.

“That’s all you have to say?” he teased. He reached down to lazily stroke himself and sighed a little breath as his aching cock finally got some relief.

Kurt’s tongue swiped along his lower lip, unconsciously following the movements of Blaine’s hand.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Blaine groaned, his pace speeding up.

“Hey- hey, stop that.” Kurt shook himself out of his daze, gesturing at Blaine’s activities. He reluctantly removed his hand as Kurt continued, “You’re gonna finish before we even start and then what? I’ll have to wait half an hour while you recuperate and every second I waste lollygagging with you is another second my father’s in the hospital.”

“I wouldn’t mind a certain kind of _gagging_ if you know what I mean.” Blaine decided that he was allowed one shameless innuendo. They were both naked; there was no pretense anymore.

Kurt rolled his eyes and then stilled. “Is that the type of sex you want?” he asked carefully.

He shook his head after a moment of contemplation. “Maybe next time.”

“There is not going to be a next time, are you kidding me? I-”

Blaine sat up and grabbed his face before kissing him quiet.

“That’s rude, I was _talking_ ,” he said once they’d parted.

Blaine just smiled and asked, “Top or bottom?”

“What?”

“Would you like to top or would you like to bottom?” he repeated. He continued when Kurt just blinked at him. “For the sex that we’ll be having? That’s not going to be oral sex, in response to your previous question.”

“I get to choose?” he asked, confused.

“Mm hm,” he replied, before mouthing at Kurt’s neck. He was starting to pick out his favourite parts of Kurt’s body, which was probably not advisable since he’d never see him again.

 “Um,” Kurt said in response. Blaine felt his throat contract against his cheek as he gulped. He dragged his hand up Kurt’s thigh before lightly trailing his fingers over his cock. “ _Oh._ Ugh, um I’ll- I’ll top, I think.”

“Okay.” He nipped at Kurt’s ear before a bottle of lube appeared in his hand. “But I get to ride you.”

Kurt nodded wordlessly, pupils large and dark, kneeling politely on the bed with his cock hard and glistening. Blaine wanted to devour him.

“Lay down, gorgeous,” he said, voice rough with desire.

He did as he was asked, hands twitching nervously in the bed sheets once he was situated against the pillows. Blaine threw a leg over Kurt’s thighs, settling over his lap.

He uncapped the bottle of lube and Kurt’s eyebrows knit together. “Um, do you want me to-?”

“I can take care of it,” he assured him, drizzling lube onto his fingers. He brushed his lips over Kurt’s and whispered, “You just sit there and look pretty.”

He looked mildly affronted, but Blaine just smirked and reached behind himself, circling his hole a few times before pushing a finger in. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation of being filled, but by not enough, not even close.

He spread himself quickly, moaning into Kurt’s mouth as he did so. Kurt’s hands ran up and down his sides slowly, his touch only leaving Blaine wanting more. Sooner than was probably advisable, he pulled his fingers out and reached for the lube to slather onto Kurt’s cock.

“Condoms,” Kurt blurted, his hands burning on Blaine’s hips.

“I told you, you’re not going to get any diseases.” Blaine was too far gone for conversation, all he wanted was to fuck himself onto Kurt’s cock and come until he couldn’t _see_.

“I’d still like one,” he insisted. Blaine started to roll his eyes and Kurt continued in what Blaine was beginning to recognize as his annoyed voice, “And don’t say you don’t have any because if you can smoke my pants across the room I’m sure you can manage to magic up some condoms.”

“ _Fine_.” A box of condoms appeared in Blaine's slippery hand and he dropped it on the mattress next to them. “Hurry up.”

Kurt gave him a look that no human had ever given Blaine; a mixture of irritation and condescension. It undoubtedly should have bothered Blaine but it only made him feel an odd mix of turned on and regretful that he’d probably never see it again after tonight.

Kurt retrieved a condom and leisurely ripped the foil open, deliberately taking his time as he rolled it onto his cock. His teasing left Blaine panting, his cock harder than ever, his hole still gaping and empty and wanting nothing more than to be filled by him.

“So hot,” he breathed, quickly slicking up Kurt’s cock before getting into position above him. He pressed his hole to the tip, whining as the head caught at his sensitive rim. “You- you still agreeing to this?”

“Yeah.”

Kurt’s nails dug into the flesh of Blaine’s thighs as he sunk down, moaning wantonly as he allowed his cock to fill him deliciously slowly. He tilted his head back, pushing down until his ass hit Kurt’s thighs and then exhaled, fingers curling around Kurt’s shoulders. Kurt’s hips jerked up just the slightest bit, forcing his cock that much deeper inside of him, and that set Blaine off. He raised himself up and slammed back down again and again, the sound of their skin slapping against each other mixing with their moans.

Kurt started rolling his hips in time with Blaine, his cock brushing against his prostate and making Blaine cry out each time. He stared down at him, broad shoulders beneath his hands, long neck exposed, full lips parted and cheeks flushed from exertion.

“Fuck Kurt,” he groaned, leaning down and kissing over the side of Kurt’s neck, across his face. “So beautiful, perfect _ungh_.”

He raked his nails down his back, holding onto his hips tightly as he fucked into Blaine more surely.

“Yes, _ugh_ , yeah just like that, please,” he whined into Kurt’s ear.

Kurt’s grip tightened and all of a sudden Blaine was on his back, pressed into the mattress with Kurt pounding into him.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he moaned, pushing his head back into the pillows.

Kurt hovered over him, hair flopped onto his forehead, gaze dark. “This still counts?”

“Yeah, oh yeah,” he spat out quickly, wrapping his arms around his neck as Kurt slammed his hips forward over and over again.

He didn’t know why he wanted to be on top, this was so obviously _better_ , this was perfect, Kurt was _perfect_. Kurt grabbed his knee and hiked it up to his hip, causing Blaine to moan at the change in angle. Blaine brought his other leg up as well and wrapped both legs around Kurt’s waist, letting Kurt take him.

“Uh, uh, _uh_.” He couldn’t help the short, breathy moans falling from his lips every time Kurt pounded into him.

Kurt buried his face in Blaine's neck and wrapped his hand around his aching cock. His movements were jerky as he kept rolling his hips and Blaine arched closer to him, digging a hand into his hair as his muscles tensed. He groaned Kurt’s name loudly, coming over both their stomachs.

Kurt thrust forward a few more times, until his panting became a long drawn-out moan. He stilled, and Blaine lazily ran his hands over the planes of his back, memorizing the way his muscles moved under his skin until Kurt rolled off of him.

He tried not to notice the loss of heat and _Kurt_ as he asked him, “So you’ll save my dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he nodded, as he rested against the pillows. Blaine watched a sense of calm fall across his features, before he sat up and smoothed down his hair. “Can I have my pants back now?”

He chuckled. “Of course.” He transported them over in a puff of smoke, causing Kurt to frown. “I’d have walked over to get them, but I’m sure it will hurt to move.”

He shrugged. “’S what you asked for,” he mumbled, wiping his stomach off with tissues from the bedside table.

Blaine did the same, and then watched as Kurt stood up, admiring his naked ass.

“Can you at least _pretend_ not to leer?” he sniped at him from over his shoulder.

He turned his gaze to the ceiling, saying, “I never did get a good look at your ass. I was just covering all my bases.”

He grumbled unintelligibly as he got dressed. Once he’d buttoned up his vest he asked, “Where are we, anyway? Can I catch a cab from here?”

Blaine laughed out loud. “No. I’ll take you home.”

“Where- are we in hell, am _I_ in hell?” he asked quickly, face whiter than Blaine had ever seen it.

“You’re in the demon’s realm, yes. But it’s obviously not what you’re thinking of. It’s not underground or anything, it’s actually on the same plane as the humans’. It’s like they overlap, occupying the same space, but different. It’s hard to explain.”

“Okay. Can you just take me back to New York, please?” he asked expectantly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah,” he said, wincing as he rolled off the bed. He popped over to Kurt and reached out a hand, but he jumped back. “What now?”

“You’re naked!” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Yeah, so?” he asked, looking down at himself in confusion.

“There’s a certain level of _decorum_ that is generally upheld in the ‘human plane’-”

“That would be human _realm-_ ”

“I don’t know if you’d noticed but not a lot of people tend to walk around naked with a shining red asshole!”

“But a _normal_ asshole-?”

“Put on some clothes,” he cut in hotly.

Blaine rolled his eyes, and with a snap of his fingers he was dressed. He grabbed Kurt’s arm and transported them to his apartment.

Kurt pulled away, coughing and complaining about lung cancer before his eyes widened. “How do you know where I live?”

“Black magic,” he shrugged carelessly. Kurt glared at him warily but he ignored it. “So, I’m gonna head down to the hospital, heal your dad, and you’ll get a very happy phone call from the nurses in the morning.”

“I have to wait until the morning?” Kurt asked, just the barest hint of a whine creeping into his voice.

He cradled his jaw one last time and pressed a kiss to his lips before murmuring, “Even miracles take time, sweetheart.”

Blaine stepped back, took a final look at Kurt’s face and then disappeared in a puff of smoke.

He arrived in Burt Hummel’s darkened hospital room. The moonlight streaming through the windows lit his face and made him look even sicker than he actually was. Well, Blaine _hoped_ it was the moonlight that was doing that. Because he looked pretty awful.

He washed his hands in a sink down the hall because it’s always a good idea to be hygienic, and checked on his walk back that nobody else was planning to enter the room. He was invisible, so it didn’t really matter if anyone came in, but he preferred privacy so he could concentrate on the task at hand.

“Hello sir,” he murmured as he stood at the head of Burt’s bed. He slipped his hand under the hospital gown to rest a palm above his heart, and placed the other on his wrinkled forehead to assess the damage. After a minute he said, “You are very lucky to have the son you have. You never would’ve woken up.”

 And just thinking about Kurt kick-started the healing process. He could feel the promise of their deal bubbling in his chest, Kurt’s sacrifice powering the healing. He winced as he felt a burst of Kurt’s love for his father flow through him, into Burt’s body.

It’s why he hated taking sex as payment for deals. Besides souls being much more useful, it physically pained him when the love for the other person travelled through his veins. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, the power rushing out of his body to heal Burt. Kurt and his father’s bond was so strong it left him panting from the effort of converting all of that compassion and love and trust into healing power before transferring it into Burt.

Finally, all that Kurt had given Blaine in his sacrifice petered out and he slumped to the floor next to the bed, heaving deep breaths to compose himself. He transported himself to the chair in the corner, resting until early in the morning when a steady beeping started to emit from the machines hooked up to Burt.

A flurry of nurses dashed in and Burt groggily looked around, asking for his son.

Kurt rushed in not long after, wearing the same clothes from a few hours ago and bags underneath his eyes. He obviously hadn’t slept since Blaine had left him.

He watched the family reunite from the corner, chest clenching at the relieved tears in Kurt’s bright blue eyes. Kurt’s hand was wrapped up in his father’s large one, both of them holding onto each other tightly.

Blaine was just about to leave when Kurt turned away from his father for just a second to look in his general direction. He shot him a watery smile and mouthed, “Thank you.”

Blaine stumbled out of the room and walked down the hallway, ignoring a few other demons who were there hoping to make deals with desperate humans.

He made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t accept sex as payment anymore. Using such strong emotions as power always left him feeling empty and _alone_ because he knew that no one would ever, ever love him that much.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt first noticed his roommate’s strange behaviour when he came home from work late one night.

Well, actually Rachel Berry always acted a little strange, but Kurt would generally put it in the category of ‘eccentric’, rather than just plain worrying.

He came home from work late, like _3 am_ late, because there had been a last minute screw-up and the latest issue of the magazine was meant to be sent to the printers at seven in the morning, so everybody useful was forced to stay behind. After taking the scariest subway ride of his life, he found Rachel outside of their sketchy apartment in Bushwick talking to some curly-haired guy that Kurt had never seen before.

“Rach?” he called, quickening his weary stride.

The stranger’s gaze shot to Kurt for a second before he walked away in the opposite direction, fading into the shadows of a broken streetlamp.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asked, putting a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. The guy hadn’t looked outright threatening, but everything about the situation seemed off.

“Yeah,” she said, staring into the darkness nervously. Kurt took a moment to look her over. He’d barely seen her over the past few days because she was rehearsing her butt off after finally getting a lead role on Broadway, and she looked exhausted.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” he said, tugging her into their slightly-safer-than-the-street building. “Who was that guy? Why are you out so late?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, rushing up the stairs ahead of him.

He sighed, taking his time because he didn’t have the energy to race after her.

“Rachel,” he began, stepping into the apartment. But she’d already yanked her curtain shut, their version of a closed door, and Kurt was too exhausted to argue.

The next morning when they had a few minutes before their days started, she still refused to talk, which was very unlike Rachel Berry.

He wasn’t sure if she was avoiding him the following week or if her schedule was just incredibly busy, but either way the next time he saw her wasn’t until a week later around one in the morning. On his late-night trek to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk, he happened to look out the window and find his roommate on the steps of their building with the same guy as before.

Kurt watched them intently, getting increasingly more suspicious because Rachel hadn’t been home before he went to sleep all week, and what if she’d seen this guy each night? Had she been out this late all this time, after waking up at the crack of dawn to go to rehearsals? How was she still functioning?

Rachel and the guy had apparently finished their good-byes, because she waved and then headed into the building. Kurt watched the guy watching her, before he disappeared before Kurt’s eyes, leaving only wisps of smoke in his wake.

Kurt felt his knees go weak beneath him. He didn’t fight it; he fell to the floor with his overactive heart pounding in his ears.

A demon. It was a demon. Rachel was consorting with a _demon_ , had she made a deal-? He slammed his eyelids shut, memories of death black eyes rushing forward. His chest mimicked how it had felt that night, his lungs squeezing like his breath was being forcibly removed, but worse because he could still breathe, he was just losing every emotion he’d ever had. He hit the back of his head against the wall because he could still feel the hot breath against his face, a wet tongue against his lips, in his mouth. Moans ripped from his throat and soft hands cradling his jaw, stroking his back. Gently. Reverently.

Jingling keys outside the door snapped him back to his darkened apartment. He blinked rapidly, his breath coming out in shorts pants. Weak light streamed in from the hall as Rachel opened the door and dropped her keys in the ceramic bowl they’d bought at a flea market she hadn’t wanted to go to.

“Who was that?” he croaked from his position underneath the windowsill.

She screeched, hand flying to her chest. “What the- Oh my God Kurt, what the hell are you doing? You scared the _shit_ out of me.”

“Who is he? Why are you seeing him?” he asked, shakily getting to his feet.

“None of your business,” she said, nose in the air. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need my beauty rest.”

“ _Rachel_. Do you know who that was?”

She walked to her section of their apartment, closed her curtain and insisted, “I’m tired.”

“Is it because you’ve been with him every night?” he asked, approaching her room. She didn’t reply, and he continued, voice growing louder, “I know you can hear me and I know you’re not asleep. What are you two doing together? _What is that demon doing to you?”_

She jerked her curtain open, rings screeching against the rod. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quietly.

“Demons are dangerous and will steal your soul without a second thought _,_ ” he quoted a popular PSA that they’d both heard thousands of times.

“Don’t regurgitate that shit to me, Kurt.”

“What could you need, Rachel? Why the hell do you need the help of a demon?” he demanded, trying to keep himself from getting hysterical. He hadn’t told anybody the reason behind his father’s miraculous recovery. Besides the fact that it had been illegal and sort of gross, he’d be grateful if he could forget the night ever happened. The memories lingered anyway, but he’d never regret it, not when his dad was only a phone call away again. He couldn’t regret that Burt would be there for Christmas and birthdays and _always_ thanks to Blaine.

It had been Kurt’s only choice other than letting his father die, but he couldn’t fathom what could have made Rachel desperate enough to seek aid from a demon.

“What could you _possibly_ need?” he asked again.

She glared up at him with her jaw clenched hard. “Don’t judge me,” she whispered lowly.

“I’m not judging you, I’m asking you what the hell you think you’re doing messing around with a demon,” he replied, towering over her.

“Lots of people do it-”

“Desperate, unfortunate souls which, oh, the demons _own_ in exchange for their help,” Kurt pointed out in disbelief.

“He’s not getting my _soul_ , I’m not stupid.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” she groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “You are _such_ a hypocrite, Kurt Hummel.”

“What?” he asked, stilling reflexively.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you planning on playing dumb? Are you going to pretend that a month ago you weren’t zapped in here by some demon yourself? What was his name- Blaine, Blake? You say his name in your sleep sometimes. I think I’ll only need one guess to figure out what _he_ got out of the deal.”

His face lit up hotly. “No.”

_No no no._

“So don’t you dare get all holier-than-thou with me, mister. We each made a choice and-” She swayed on her feet mid-sentence.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asked, his horror at being found out dropped for a moment.

“I told you, I’m _tired_. Let me sleep.”

“Rach, you can’t keep doing this. How many hours of sleep are you even getting?”

“ _Enough_ , I assure you. Now go dream about Blaine.” She snapped her curtain closed, leaving Kurt frozen on the other side.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Kurt stayed in bed long enough to be absolutely certain that Rachel had already left the apartment, and because he was hiding from Rachel, he was late for work. His day didn’t get any better from there. He was worrying himself sick about his stupid best friend being indebted to a demon and whether or not she’d told anybody about his own involvement with one.

He stopped at a coffee shop after work because he wasn’t quite ready to go home yet, and nearly spilled his mocha across his hand when he saw who was sitting at the table across from his.

“Blaine?” he breathed, throat tight.

“Hi Kurt,” he replied with a strangely bright grin. Under no circumstances should demons look that carefree and happy. What the hell is wrong with this one?

“What- what are you doing here?” he asked, looking around at the rest of the shop. Of course nobody was really paying attention to them; it’s not as if Blaine were on fire or sprouting horns or anything. In fact, he was wearing a sports jacket with leather elbow patches.

He shrugged. “I can drink coffee if I want to.” As if to demonstrate his point, he brought his mug up to his lips and took a sip.

Kurt swallowed thickly. He should leave. Should he leave? He should just go home. Right?

“How’s your dad?” Blaine asked.

“Perfect,” he said immediately. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s great.”

He nodded. “Good, yeah. I’m just following up.”

“Is that routine for you?” Kurt asked incredulously.

“Not really.”

“Then why are you here? I don’t understand.” His fingers tightened around his cup. His gaze kept flicking around nervously, sure that someone in the little coffee shop would figure out that Blaine wasn’t human and then come to arrest him for fraternizing with a demon. “I- You’re not here to ask for more, are you? We had a deal, Blaine-”

“Whoa, whoa, no-” He got up from his own table and quickly seated himself across from Kurt. “No, that’s not how it works, I can’t go back and demand more once the deal’s been agreed upon. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

He looked oddly earnest about it, like his main concern was putting Kurt at ease. It was eerily similar to how he’d acted the night they were together, except he wasn’t smiling so calmly then. It was doing nothing for Kurt’s nerves.

“So, did you just happen to get coffee at the same place as me?” Kurt asked.

“No,” he admitted.

“So you came here specifically to see me? Why?”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“I can’t imagine we’d have anything to discuss,” Kurt said, finally finding the strength to stand up from his chair.

Blaine reached his hand towards him like he was going to stop him from leaving, but he stopped himself and instead said, “It’s about Rachel.”

Kurt had been poised to exit, but at his words he slowly turned back to Blaine.

“Who?” he asked quietly.

“Rachel Berry. Your roommate,” he replied.

His gaze was fixed on Kurt as he slid back into his seat. Kurt’s heart thumped loudly in his ears as he asked, “What about her?”

“You’re worried about her deal with a demon.”

“How would you know that?”

He didn’t reply, just shrugged.

“Blaine, how do you know anything about Rachel?” he demanded, voice growing louder.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you,” he said, and as if to prove his point he was looking at Kurt with such casual intensity that it made him shiver.

“What the hell does that mean? Have you been _stalking_ me?”

His small sliver of doubt melted away when the fact that demons could be invisible slammed to the forefront of his mind. It felt like his insides had turned to rock, heavy and cold inside him, as he remembered all of the times he thought he’d been alone in the past month, when he’d felt safe in his own home. Blaine could have been watching his every move, seen him when he was most vulnerable.

His nails bit into his palm when he recalled Rachel’s words from last night- _you say his name in your sleep sometimes_.

He swallowed down his rising nausea.

“I only watched you when you were with other people,” Blaine said, as if that excused his behaviour. He reached forward again, intent to comfort him with his touch, but Kurt snatched his hands off the table.

“How is that supposed to make me feel any better about this horrid breach of privacy?” he asked, the words shooting past his lips in a hiss.

Kurt wished that Blaine was ugly, that he had horns tearing through his forehead and that his skin was mottled and grey, that his eyes couldn’t get so wide and- and _upset_ at Kurt’s reaction. He didn’t want to believe that Blaine actually felt regret for his actions and was sorry for Kurt’s misery.

He wanted Blaine to be ugly, inside and out, like demons were _supposed_ to be.

“You weren’t alone when I watched you,” Blaine said, eyebrows drawn up in sincerity. “I wasn’t invading on private moments, I was just seeing what other people saw.”

“Yeah, maybe if you were watching me in the street or at work, but coming into my home and watching me fight with my best friend? That is an _invasion_ , Blaine.” He poked a finger at tabletop, breath coming fast. “Nothing excuses that.”

“I can stop,” he said.

“Do that,” Kurt spat. “And while you’re at it, get out of here. Just leave.”

“I wanted to talk to you about-”

“Can you get Rachel out of her deal?” he asked plainly.

Blaine held his gaze for a moment before quietly saying, “No.”

“Then I have nothing to say to you.”

He nodded, head down, and slowly stood up. He peeked up at Kurt and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He left the coffee shop without another word and disappeared down an alley.

When Kurt was sure that he was gone, he stood up and threw his lukewarm coffee into the trash with more force than necessary because Blaine had _no_ right to look so damned hurt and confused. It was absolutely ridiculous that he looked like a puppy who was expecting a pat and instead received a harsh slap.

Kurt leaned against the wall and breathed through his nose, willing the guilt lodged in his throat to disappear.

 

* * *

 

_Demons are dangerous and will steal your soul without a second thought. They have no emotions or respect for human life. They have been known to possess or otherwise influence humans, and because of this, humans caught in the act of dealing with a demon will immediately be apprehended by the Bureau of Demon Affairs and questioned accordingly. Do not interact with demons._

Kurt muted the TV as the latest celebrity announced the same PSA that had been shoved down every American’s throat since television had been invented. Sometimes they added a personal story about how a demon had negatively affected a ‘loved one’.

Kurt was sure that at least half of the celebrities had struck a deal with a demon to get their fame.

You could see it in their eyes, the fear of their approaching fate.

The eternity of servitude.

The early death.

Whatever they’d decided was worth being rich and famous.

Rachel wasn’t home to watch television with him. Apparently the whole cast was behind on learning the choreography, and there were now mandatory extra dance rehearsals.

They hadn’t really talked since two weeks ago when they fought, mostly because she’d been ignoring him, but he was sure that Rachel and the rest of the cast were taking a break at this very moment. Just like the rest of the world.

Because last week, the Demon Police (who had a really pretentious proper title so most people referred to them by the nickname) had caught a demon.

Reporters, cops, scientists, people in the street- everyone was talking about how completely unprecedented it was, how everybody should be super proud of New York, and America, because it was the first time anybody had ever trapped a demon.

That was all true if you ignored the rest of the world. Kurt had done an enormous amount of research before attending the demon mixer, and he’d found several reports detailing that Aboriginals used to summon demons and question them to learn about their magic.

Of course, priests and other people who just didn’t like demons did their best to burn all of that information once they’d conquered the lands the Aboriginals once called their own.

Anyway, what the New York unit of the Bureau of Demon Affairs was doing was still unprecedented, technically, because no one had ever captured a demon and then displayed it in a cage for the viewing of the general public.

To be unveiled internationally on a TV special, like the royal wedding.

Yes, this was certainly new.

Kurt had been watching the same channel for the past three hours, all programs on demons, and what would be done to the captured demon, and recaps of the news programs from the past week in case someone had been under a rock and hadn’t heard.

It reminded him of the football pre-shows Burt and Finn watched before the Super Bowl.

He’d been a nervous wreck the entire time.

He’d been a nervous wreck the entire _week_.

The demon that they captured, in all likelihood, was not Blaine. The odds were so slim he didn’t even want to consider it.

Unfortunately, that possibility had been plaguing him since he’d heard a demon had been caught.

When he’d walked into work last week and found the whole office abuzz with the news of the capture, he’d immediately asked if anybody knew the name.

One of his coworkers had replied with the name of the officer who’d shot the demon (with the new, experimental liquid iron-secreting bullet), and Kurt had nearly kicked himself for speaking up at all. Obviously the name of the demon wouldn’t be revealed. Who the hell cared what the abomination called itself?

Eventually, the feature presentation started and Kurt focused all his attention on the television screen, where newscasters from around the globe were gathered in the middle of Central Park, surrounding the caged demon at a safe distance.

It only took a further twenty minutes of fanfare before a few armed Demon Police tore off the blood-red curtain that had covered the cage since it had been brought to the square hours earlier.

Kurt held his breath, along with the rest of the world, and craned his neck forward to see into the cage. The walls of the prison were supposed to be transparent, but there was plenty blocking Kurt’s view. Two layers of iron-laced glass, interspersed with two layers of criss-crossing bars, also made out of iron because it was the only thing humans had found that weakened demons and nobody was taking any chances.

The cage was just tall enough to stand in, and slightly wider. It was eerily reminiscent in shape to the cages that travelling circuses always seemed to house their lions in on cartoons.

Though Kurt’s vision was obscured by the bars, he could still see that the demon looked dead on the floor. His cheek was squished against the bottom of the cage, and Kurt could only see the top of his curly-haired head, and none of his face.

He clenched his fists, waiting impatiently for the camera to pan around for a complete 360 look at the first demon ever captured by humans.

The announcer was explaining what the cage was made out of, and the security detail posted ‘round the clock to ensure no escape attempt would be made. Kurt didn’t care because he already knew all of that from the special, _The Demon Caged_ , he’d watched an hour ago.

The camera finally moved and zoomed in close enough for a shot of the demon’s face and… he was blindfolded and gagged.

And manacled and chained to the cage.

All iron, of course.

 Kurt knew everything about the imprisonment except who was _imprisoned._

The demon was curled in on himself, his face covered mostly by his hands, and the bars from the cage blocked so much of Kurt’s view that he didn’t understand the point of making such a huge spectacle of the unveiling.

He turned the television off, worry and frustration battling in his gut.

He didn’t _care_ whether or not Blaine was in that cage, he just wasn’t going to be able to think about anything else until he knew the truth.

He’d go to the public viewing tomorrow for a better look.

 

* * *

 

Kurt had planned a quick peek during his lunch break, but apparently half the city had the same idea, so he came back a few hours later after pawning off the rest of his work on an intern and leaving the magazine early.

The bit of Central Park that was roped off for the event was crammed to capacity, with a waiting line that wasn’t much shorter than Kurt had seen during his lunch. It looked like everybody and their brother had come to see the demon for themselves, and to get a quick pic for Facebook. Guards kept a six foot boundary around the cage, preventing anybody from tapping on the glass in an attempt to make the demon move from his fetal position on the ground.

He waited for a little over an hour in line before he was allowed through the gate. It wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things, but it seemed to drag on when it took him twenty minutes to fully pass the group of evangelists handing out lollipops to the children in line.

He’d never had much faith in religion, and he now found it even more laughable considering that a demon had done more for his father than a hundred prayers ever could have. He assumed that was why religious folk hated the demons so much.

He was finally let into the corral, and after numerous elbow jabs through the mass of people, he found a spot where he could sort of see the demon. His wrists were red and blistered from the iron chains, and Kurt realized he was probably curled into that prone state because he didn’t have the strength to do anything else since he was so surrounded by his kryptonite, as it were.

He looked around for the protesters of this inhumane treatment, but then rolled his eyes at himself- demons weren’t human. They weren’t even animals. They had no one on their side.

_Because they’re evil_ , he reminded himself.

He took a deep breath and examined the caged demon with a critical eye, slowly assuring himself that it couldn’t be Blaine. The prisoner was lankier than Blaine, and paler.

The differences could have been due to the awful conditions, but since Blaine had suddenly appeared next to him, Kurt was quite sure it wasn’t him who was trapped.

“Hoping it was me?” Blaine asked as if he had casually walked up to Kurt like a normal person instead of transplanting himself ten feet away from half of the city’s Demon Police.

Kurt looked around wildly, but no one else had noticed an abrupt extra body in the crowd.

“Just checking,” he answered, heart in his throat. He took Blaine in, confirming to himself that it was really him and he was not trapped inside a painful prison.

Blaine caught him staring and smirked. Kurt shuddered and turned back to the cage.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

“Yeah, because I was really hoping to laugh at you being tortured and humiliated,” he replied sarcastically.

He shrugged. “You didn’t seem too happy with me last time we spoke.”

“That doesn’t mean-” he cut himself off. Why _didn’t_ he want to see Blaine in that cage? A demon is a demon is a demon, it’s not like it would make any difference which one was in there. “Why are you here, anyway?” His voice rose. “Are you still stalking me?”

“No, I told you I wouldn’t.” He gestured at something across the courtyard. “We’re going for a rescue attempt.”

Since Kurt was looking in the direction Blaine was pointing, he noticed a wisp of smoke rise from the crowd and drift towards the cage.

“That cage is like 80% solid iron,” he said.

“I know, it feels like I’m getting sunburnt just standing here, ugh.” He shuddered, rubbing his arms.

“Are you good friends with that demon, then?” he asked, confused as to why he was risking his health. How could demons form strong bonds with other demons if they didn’t even have emotions? (Though he doubted that ‘fact’ more every time he repeated it to himself).

“He’s one of our own,” he replied, focused on the barely-there smoke. “We can’t let humans capture him and display him to the world like a joke.”

Kurt looked at the captured demon again, the thick cage trapping him, and the hundreds of gawking bystanders kept at a distance

“I don’t know if anyone would describe him as ‘joke’,” he mused. “That cage was specially built to contain him and he’s still bound and gagged. There are upwards of fifteen guards within eyesight. Look around; we’re terrified of him.”

To Kurt’s surprise, Blaine rolled his eyes. “Of all the demons to be terrified of. Jessie is- ugh, he’s an idiot,” he scoffed. “Do you know how he was caught?”

“Of course,” he replied with irritation. It was all anybody had been talking about for the last week. “There was another mixer and the Demon Cops infiltrated it-”

“And I speculate with very little doubt that when all the other demons there transported immediately back to the demon realm, Jessie stuck around longer than he needed to and made a big speech about how humans would _never_ catch a demon and how stupid they were for even trying, and then somebody fucking threw an iron net over him or whatever happened-”

“A revolutionary new liquid iron-secreting bullet,” Kurt recited from memory.

“-because he’s a dramatic _idiot_ ,” Blaine finished.

Kurt’s eyebrows furrowed at the contempt in his voice. “So, why are you helping him escape?”

He sighed, turning away from the smoke that had concentrated around the lock. “I guess we’re not today. The locks are iron, too. We thought they might have overlooked one small detail, but we’re out of luck.”

“How can you tell?”

Blaine’s eyes met his, and Kurt immediately wished that his focus was elsewhere. “Demons have other ways of communication than speech, Kurt.”

“You can talk to smoke?” He was lost.

Blaine snorted. “Smoke is the closest we can get to our base form in this realm.”

“What?”

“The main element of our base form only exists in the demonic and angelic realms-”

“Base form?” he echoed, zeroing in on what had actually confused him about Blaine’s first explanation. “A demon’s natural state is a wisp of smoke?”

Irritation flashed across his features. “It’s more substantial than that; your realm is just very restrictive.”

“You’re _smoke_ ,” he said in disbelief.

Kurt had had sex with smoke.

Blaine was shaking his head, sighing, when a woman in a tight red dress appeared in front of them.

Kurt jumped, hand going to his throat.

“Revealing demon secrets to every hot boy that shows interest, are we?” she said to Blaine, tone dripping with disproval as well as condescension. Neither of them had a chance to respond before she fanned herself and said, “Can we get out of here? All this iron is giving me hives.”

Her warm brown skin looked completely flawless to Kurt, but he supposed she was speaking metaphorically.

“Wait, was she just smoke?” he asked Blaine.

She finally spared him a second glance, her eyes raking over him in a way that made him feel completely exposed.

She suddenly grinned, wide and shark-like, and asked, “How would you like a demon to owe you a favour?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but no.”

She scowled, and Kurt swore he could see fire flash in her pupils.

“Who the hell is this?” she asked, crossing her arms over her impressive chest.

“He’s no one,” Blaine said with a wave of his hand. Kurt almost let out an indignant huff before he remembered that he didn’t _want_ to be anyone to Blaine. “Santana, we can go-”

She looked speculatively between Kurt and Blaine, lips pursing before twisting into a smirk. “Past client? Okay, I can work with that. You help a demon out, get us the key for that lock, and Blaine’ll return whatever he took from you for the deal you made.”

“I-” Kurt began, blood running cold.

“Ten years off your life? Back on. Eternal servitude? Now down to half an eternity. You obviously still have your soul _now_ , does he get it after you die? Not anymore.”

“He can’t give back what he took from me,” Kurt bit out, cutting off her car salesman-like pitch.

Blaine sucked in a sharp breath.

The woman, the demon- _Santana_ raised a brow, but before she could speak a man beside Kurt asked, “Who are you talking to?”

Kurt looked from the stranger to the two demons in confusion.

“I’m-” he began, throat tight. _Do not interact with demons_. “Just people-”

Blaine shook his head, almost apologetically, and Santana winked at him.

His heart dropped down to his boots. They were invisible to everyone but him. He was talking to air.

“Bluetooth?” Kurt tried, voice cracking.

When he failed to produce any sort of communication device from his ear, the man shouted, “Demon! He’s talking to a demon! There are free demons here!”

“No, no, it’s nothing, shut up,” he snapped, ducking his head as a hundred heads turned to stare at him.

The attention of the nearest guards were on him in an instant, and they sliced through the crowd like a hot knife through butter to arrest him.

“Well this was fun. Ta.” Santana waved her fingers at him, her Cheshire cat grin hanging in the air before she disappeared completely.

The last thing he felt before he himself disappeared was a soft grip on his elbow, and then it was like he was freefalling, his stomach in his throat, except that he no longer had either.

What a terrible day this was turning out to be.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as the smoke cleared from around them, Kurt wrenched his elbow out of Blaine’s grasp and started shouting.

“What the hell did you do that for? I am not helping you with your inane plan to save your dipshit friend- Am I in _hell_ again?” he demanded, looking around Blaine's room in shock.

“It’s not hell, it’s the demon’s realm-”

“I don’t care what the fuck you call it, take me back _right_ now-”

“So the Demon Police can arrest you?” Blaine shot back.

“Take me to my _apartment_ ,” he said through his teeth.

Before Blaine could stop her, Santana came up behind Kurt and slapped him on the back of the head.

“Ow! What-?”

She grabbed him by the shoulder, and shoved him into one of Blaine’s antique armchairs before she bent over it to trap him in his seat.

“Look, Meat Bag. You’re in the demon’s realm, and you can call it hell if you want, but all you really need to know is that here? Demons are in charge. We run this mother, understand? We’re even more powerful here than in your realm, and I’m sure you know how powerful we are there. So if you’re not scared of us, then you’re an idiot. Are you an idiot?”

“What are you doing?” Blaine snapped, yanking her away by the elbow.

She smacked him off, her hand burning hot. “Laying out the rules for your _pet_.”

“Shouldn’t that be my responsibility?” he asked, furious that she would purposely set out to scare Kurt. That was the exact opposite of what he was trying to accomplish.

“Yes,” she said pointedly.

Blaine hadn’t been expecting such a direct answer. “Well… Then.” He brushed past her and stood in front of Kurt sitting straight-backed in the chair.

“I’m quite aware of what you’re capable of,” Kurt said in a trembling voice. “There’s no need to spell it out for me. But if you could _please_ return me to my home, I would very much appreciate it.”

Blaine sat down on the small coffee table in front of Kurt, taking in the man he’d been secretly observing the past month. At least, until a couple weeks ago at their ill-fated coffee meeting when Kurt had renamed it ‘stalking’ and had ordered him to stop. Blaine had never expected him to look so utterly terrified at the news; he thought he’d been quite polite by not watching him shower or sleep or anything more… private, but even if he didn’t understand Kurt’s dread, he respected it and had stopped like he asked.

Which was why when he happened to see him at Jessie’s viewing, Blaine couldn’t help but talk to him. He hadn’t seen him in nearly a week, and after watching him for hours every day for a month, it seemed like a very long time.

Hmm, putting it like that, he supposed it did sound kind of creepy.

“I’ll take you back as soon as you listen to what I have to say,” Blaine said.

Kurt opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, eyeing Santana, who had settled onto the couch across from them and was sharpening her nails on a nail file. He wanted to stroke Kurt’s hair and assure him he wasn’t going to hurt him, but he doubted either person in the room would appreciate that.

“What do you insist on speaking to me about?” he asked, much softer than he originally wanted to, Blaine was sure.

“The demon that’s trapped. Do you recognize him?”

He scoffed. “No, I actually don’t make it a habit of associating with demons. Since it’s illegal and dangerous and-”

The smoke image that Blaine was conjuring up had started to take form, and Kurt’s jaw dropped when the full face hung in the air, gray and translucent.

“Familiar?” Blaine asked expectantly.

“That’s- that’s Rachel's- I mean, that’s the demon Rachel’s been seeing.”

Blaine nodded. “You might have noticed that Rachel’s been coming home at a more reasonable hour this past week?”

“I- yeah, more around midnight I guess. I hadn’t even… Why would I help him escape?” he asked, shaking his head. “Out of every demon that could have possibly been captured, he is the one that works out best for me.”

Blaine leaned back on the table, surprised that Kurt had been telling the truth before when he’d said that he hadn’t been hoping Blaine had been behind bars.

He didn’t understand humans at all.

“He won’t always be trapped,” Santana interjected. “And when he’s out, do you want it to be because of a deal you made to free your friend? Or because he made a deal with some dumb guard that he’ll probably kill when he gets out anyway?”

Blaine nodded at her, pleased that she understood where he was going so quickly.

Kurt’s brow furrowed as he soaked up this new information. “What deal did Rachel even make? She wouldn’t tell me.”

“What has Rachel wanted for… um, forever?” Blaine replied, figuring that Kurt could probably figure it out himself, if Jessie’s description of Rachel was anything to go by.

It didn’t take Kurt very long at all before he said, “Broadway. Broadway? You cannot be serious. She made a deal with a demon to get a starring role on _Broadway_?”

“Yeah, I was going to tell you in the coffee shop, but…” He shrugged.

“Are you two having coffee dates?” asked Santana incredulously.

“Unbelievable!” Kurt exclaimed, ignoring her. “As if she wouldn’t have gotten a role eventually anyway. The absolute _nerve_ of that woman, that she’d call me a hypocrite, but I made a deal to save my father, and she made a deal because she _literally_ could not wait to see her name up in lights. And now she’s stuck in this mess, and I have to help her out.”

Kurt was livid. Blaine was unsurprisingly turned on by the fire in his eyes.

“You don’t _have_ to,” Santana drawled. “She can honour her deal once Jesse gets out and I can give you like a million dollars or whatever for helping.”

Kurt gaped at her.

“What? A million’s a lot, isn’t it?”

He turned back to Blaine. “What is Rachel paying?”

“Basically, for the next year, Jessie will pick her up each night after she’s done rehearsing or performing, and bring her here for a minimum of four hours,” Blaine explained. “However, if by the end of the year she has not completed at least 1,456 hours, she will continue to pay until the minimum has been reached. Of course, if she reaches the limit before the year is up, the same does not apply.”

“And what do they do?” he asked quietly.

“Bow chicka bow wow,” Santana winked.

Kurt shuddered.

Blaine leaned forward to put a comforting hand on his knee before catching himself, and trying to do it with just words. “But Jessie shares Rachel’s passion for theatre, so sometimes he just helps her rehearse, and he gives her tips.”

“And other times he makes her sing in front of a booing crowd,” Santana said with a smile. “Usually Friday nights. I appreciate that he entertains the masses.”

Kurt put his head in his hands.

“How much you wanna bet that she prefers the sex on stage to people throwing rotten fruit at her?” Santana asked Blaine with a smirk.

“At least she gets the satisfaction of knowing people enjoy her performance when she’s-”

“This isn’t _funny_ ,” Kurt snapped.

“ _I_ think it’s hilarious,” Santana said, chin jutting out in challenge.

With a speculative expression, Kurt scanned Blaine's face. “Do you really think Jessie will make this deal with me?”

“It’s not like he’ll have a lot of choices once we reach him.”

He nodded, and thought for a moment. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to get anywhere near that cage again.”

Blaine waved away his concern. “He’s only being displayed for a week.”

“Oh, you watched _The Demon Caged_ , too?”

“Our Plan B, which we’ll now be following because the lock is iron, is to catch him on the way back to Demon Police headquarters on Hoffman Island.”

“Well, not if we can help it,” Santana said.

“It’ll be when the guards’ defenses are most vulnerable.”

“You’re not gonna kill anybody, right?” Kurt asked.

“If they get in my fucking way.”

“We’ll try to keep the human fatality rate to a minimum,” Blaine replied. The response was out of his mouth before he realized that it was probably not the best choice of words.

Kurt leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He was absolutely breathtaking, and Blaine found himself hoping that he would agree to this just so he’d have an excuse to observe him.

“Can I have some time to think about this?”

Santana heaved a sigh, and Blaine just barely held one back. Again he was left wondering what could possibly be making Kurt so wary.

“I can come see you around noon tomorrow?” Blaine suggested.

“Otherwise we’ll have to round up some other poor sucker willing to deal with any and all iron we might come across,” Santana said.

Kurt stood. “So you can take me home now?”

God, his _legs_.

“Yeah.” He rose to his feet and touched Kurt’s arm.

“I hope to see you around.” Santana’s laugh echoed around them as he transported them back to Kurt’s apartment.

Which was crawling with Demon Cops.

And of course, Rachel was right in the middle of vehemently denying that Kurt would ever associate with a demon. Her emphatic promises probably would have convinced them if Kurt and Blaine hadn’t puffed into existence right next to the television.

“Holy shit!” the woman nearest to them shouted. She barely had her hand on her gun before Blaine brought them back to the demon realm.

Santana was still in his room, helping herself to a glass of his scotch. “Back so soon?” she asked dryly.

Kurt sunk onto the couch, holding his head in his hands. “I really should have seen that coming.”

“Okay, well-” Blaine began, flicking through possible options in his mind.

“I’ll help you,” Kurt said.

 “You will?”

He spread his hands. “Whatever I do now, I’m fucked. Might as well get Rachel out of her mess before I’m subjugated to whatever the Demon Police do to people who get involved with demons.”

Blaine frowned. Kurt didn’t seem very happy with his decision to help them. Nobody was making him, but he would get in trouble regardless of whether or not he helped them rescue Jessie. And he couldn’t go home anyway. It felt a lot like when he’d made a deal with Blaine the first time. He’d been under no obligation to have sex with Blaine, but if he didn’t Blaine would never have saved his dad.

It wasn’t his choice. Not really.

Kurt’s reluctance to deal with demons was finally making more sense to Blaine.

“Great.” Santana clapped her hands together. “Shall we start planning now?”

Without waiting for a response, she swept a hand through the air and summoned a large table, covered in maps and schematics. Kurt stood up and peered at it and she snorted. “No, we don’t need you, human. You can go home.”

“My home is swarmed with Demon Cops!” he snapped. “I can’t _go_ home without getting arrested. Why the hell do you think I came back here?”

Her fists curled at her side, the only outward sign that she was incredibly pissed. She locked her glare onto Blaine, expecting him to discipline his ‘pet’.

“Kurt, just sit down, okay?” he said. Kurt only crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him. Blaine was getting tired of people giving him such indignant looks in his own room. He lowered his voice and stepped closer, “Look, you just have to ignore her, okay?”

 _Or she’ll burn your head off_ , he didn’t mention.

“So I can help you two plan?” he asked expectantly.

“No!” she barked from behind them.

Kurt let out a harsh breath through his nose.

“Can you just sit down?” he ordered. Well, his tone made it sound like a suggestion. But he meant it to be an order. He just didn’t feel totally safe telling Kurt what to do. “And you can have- coffee or tea or- or champagne or whatever the hell you want.”

“If I can’t help you, can I just be alone, please?” he asked, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Do you have, like, a guest room…?”

He glanced around the room and Blaine scratched the back of his neck. “Um, about that-”

Kurt’s eyebrows furrowed. “There isn’t a door in here.”

“Skin Sack, we’re only corporeal right now for your benefit,” Santana sneered. “Why the hell should this imaginary room have doors?”

“Oh for fuck sakes,” he sighed, throwing himself onto the couch again. He rubbed at his temple before looking up at Blaine. “Can you _make_ me another room?”

“Demanding little thing,” Santana muttered.

Blaine bit his lip. “The short answer is yes.”

“But the actual answer is he needs to fucking concentrate on figuring out how to break Jessie out of your human prison, so you can just sit quietly on the couch like a good pet,” Santana cut in.

“Santana, shut up!”

“I am not a _pet_.”

“You’re literally trapped in this room until Blaine lets you out. Is that not what a pet is?” she asked. Kurt stood up and she laughed, flinging her hands to her sides and summoning fire to her fingertips. “What are you gonna do? You gonna fight me?”

Blaine stood between her and Kurt, protecting him from any attack Santana may or may not launch. “You’re not going to touch him.”

Santana faltered, her fire flickering down like a strong wind had come by. She eyed him up and down like she didn’t understand what he was doing. “Well yeah, come on. I was joking.”

He didn’t care that intimidating Kurt was just her way of putting him into his place. Her intent was to scare the fuck out of him and Blaine was sure Kurt had enough to worry about without dealing with Santana, the flame-throwing demon.

“Great. Funny joke,” Blaine said. He looked between Kurt and Santana cautiously. “Maybe you should head out and we can start planning this tomorrow. Jessie’s not going anywhere.”

She put her hands on her hips, flames extinguishing. “You want some alone time with your pet?”

“Yeah, so get lost?” Again, he meant it as an order, but didn’t even let it sound like a suggestion with Santana, and instead ended up asking a question.

Her lips twisted like she’d bit into something sour. “Whatever you say, oh fearless leader.”

She disappeared and Blaine turned back to Kurt.

His hand was tucked under his elbow, the other one covering his eyes. “Thank you for getting rid of her.”

“I just want to make you comfortable.”

Kurt shook his head, like the idea was laughable. And it probably was, but Blaine wasn’t going to stop trying. Kurt’s gaze landed on his face, and then darted to anywhere else. “I really would appreciate if I could be alone somehow.”

He nodded, deflating a bit in disappointment because- why? What did he expect? That Kurt was going to want to stay up late and have a slumber party? That he was going to fall into bed with him again? No. Being alone would probably give him more comfort than Blaine ever could.

Right?

Is that how humans worked?

“Yeah.” He nodded at a blank space of wall and a shiny mahogany door appeared.

Kurt turned his head and his eyes widened. “Oh, thanks.”

“No problem.”

He turned the ornate gold handle and peeked inside the small room. “Oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve seen bigger closets.”

“It’s easier for me to retain if it’s small and simple,” he explained. The walls were white, almost closing in on the only furniture in the room, a double bed and bedside table topped with a round lamp.

“Simple is right,” he said dryly.

He pushed down his annoyance at Kurt’s ungratefulness because it _was_ a very basic room.

“I hope it’ll suffice.”

Kurt’s lips twitched, like he was trying to force a smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Yeah. I guess I’ll turn in early.” He took a step forward and then asked, “Do demons sleep?”

“In a manner of speaking. We rest in our base forms, sometimes for centuries. We forget who we are and awaken to the demon realm where little has changed, and then visit the human realm where nothing is the same as when we walked upon it last.”

Kurt pressed his lips between his teeth and nodded. “So that means you’re not going to be sleeping tonight?”

“That is correct.”

“Okay. Just wake me in the morning, then. Or whatever passes for morning in hell.”

 

* * *

 

So Kurt was in hell again.

The demons’ realm.

He couldn’t leave on his own and he had to rely on Blaine for everything from a separate room to food, so Santana hadn’t been that off-base calling him a pet.

Basically hell, and yet probably still more freedom than he was going to have when he went home after freeing Jessie because the Demon Police were going to interrogate him for years and then throw him in jail.

He hadn’t slept well.

But he was still determined to do all he could to keep Rachel safe, and that meant making sure the escape went off without a hitch. So he sat on the couch flipping through a magazine while Santana and Blaine worked over a table covered in schematics. And when he overheard them talking about him scaling a ten foot wall, he asked a question even though Santana had demanded he keep his mouth shut.

“What kind of wall?” he interrupted them with a sigh.

“Brick.”

“Yeah, okay. I might be able to swing it if the fence was chain link, but I’ll need a ladder or like a grappling hook to get over that. Just so you know.” He took a sip of his mimosa as he read what France was doing with accessories.

“Can’t you just leap over it?” Santana asked.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh my god.” He stood up and walked over to the table and whiteboard where they were planning the escape.

“I told you we don’t need you!”

“If you don’t know the limits of the human body, there are going to be severe flaws in this plan that will not be my fault but will screw me over anyway,” he said. He leaned over the table, scanning the maps and notes they’d made. He started pointing out faults. “That defies the laws of physics, maybe if I was an Olympian, I will need bolt cutters here, here and- just don’t leave me without a set of bolt cutters.”

He raised his eyes to Blaine. “This is a ridiculous plan. I think you’ve watched _Mission Impossible_ a few too many times.”

“We were brainstorming,” he shrugged, hands wide.

“I told him that I can probably just blast the top of the cage open like this,” Santana began, holding her hand out.

“Don’t you dare!”

A jet of concentrated fire shot out of her palm and left a nickel-sized hole in the whiteboard.

“Oh my god!”

“Damnit, Santana. What have I told you about shooting off in here?” Blaine snapped.

“Not to do it,” she said as she checked her nails.

Kurt lost interest in the new hole and was now reading what the two of them had written on the whiteboard, which was somehow even more ridiculous than the notes they’d made in the margins of the maps.

“You’re gonna rise up to twenty feet and smite all humans in sight?” he asked Santana incredulously.

“Possibly,” she replied, arms crossed over her chest. “Problem?”

“Yeah!” He turned to Blaine. “You said you wouldn’t be killing any humans.”

“Unless it was necessary.”

“Yeah and by ‘necessary’ I thought you meant if they attacked you.”

“By then it’ll be too late and they’ll already have a fucking iron-secreting bullet in me,” said Santana. “It’ll be easiest to hide somewhere up high and kill all of them from a distance.”

“No!” Kurt argued. “Are you nuts?”

“Kurt, these are the guys who are gonna put you in jail-” Blaine began.

He leveled a glare at him. “I don’t want them _dead_. I don’t know how you can-” He cut himself off with a harsh sigh. Fucking demons.

Blaine’s face softened. “Is this the same sort of reasoning as when you didn’t want me to be the demon in that cage?”

“Yes,” he said, surprised that Blaine seemed to be making an effort to understand his position. “I just… don’t like seeing people hurt.”

Santana threw her hands in the air. “Oh, you _would_ pick up a fucking pacifist.”

“I’m just saying, violence isn’t always the only option.”

“Then what did you have in mind, Gandhi?”

“Are you seriously using ‘Gandhi’ as an insult?”

“To be fair-” Blaine began.

“I don’t care,” he cut in, holding up a hand. He inspected the plans strewn across the table and said, “So their defenses will be most vulnerable when they’re moving, even if they will be travelling in a convoy of fortified Demon Police vans. Let’s just hope they don’t have a helicopter overhead.”

“If there is, can I shoot it down?

Kurt bit his lip. “You might have to.”

“Alright. If I don’t get to kill humans, I am wasting my time.”

He shared an uneasy glance with Blaine.

“Santana, can you try not to express so much glee over killing humans when there is a human in the room?” Blaine said carefully.

Santana was irritating and scary, but at least her presence forced Kurt and Blaine to be allies. If she weren’t here, Kurt knew he would be sniping at Blaine the whole time and Blaine would get that admonished-puppy look on his face. Of course, then he might break and threaten to steal his soul like last time. The rage had come out of _nowhere_ \- well, not nowhere, because he was a demon and they all walked around bubbling with fury.

Right?

Kurt shivered as he recalled, for the umpteenth time, the cold, empty sensation of his soul being sucked out of his chest.

“If we can just subdue all the guards somehow…” Kurt muttered, getting back to the task at hand. “Can you possess humans without killing them?”

When neither responded, he looked up to find the two of them glaring heatedly at each other. He wondered if any of this furniture was fireproof.

“If all demons do when they’re together is argue, then I see why you haven’t taken over Earth yet,” he said dryly.

That got them to pay attention to him.

“You wanna talk about ‘arguing’?” Santana said. “Try humans. Every time I visit there’s a new war. Sometimes you’re just fighting over _stories_.”

It took Kurt a second to catch on. “You mean religion? Yeah, well I’m an atheist. So can we get back to this?” He pointed at the table. “Again, can you possess people without killing them?”

They both grimaced.

“What?”

“We don’t possess humans half as often as you people seem to think,” Blaine said.

“You don’t?”

Santana shuddered. “I mean you’re all… grisly and wet. And so easy to break.”

“And the human is fighting for control of their body the whole time,” Blaine said. “Plus your blood is filled with iron.”

“Huh,” Kurt said, dumbfounded. Every PSA suddenly seemed like an even bigger lie. “I had never considered that.”

“Humans don’t consider anything but themselves,” Santana said.

“Okay, so no possession, then. No iron, no killing,” he muttered to himself. He flipped through the Demon Police’s plans. He had no idea how Blaine and Santana had gotten hold of them, but it made him a lot less confident in the government’s security as a whole.

“Are you sure we can’t get a different human to help us?”

“A human who doesn’t care for human life?” Blaine asked.

“That would be a sociopath,” Kurt said without looking up. “Or a psychopath. I can never remember which. In any case, you could check prisons. Or the Republican Party, your pick.”

“You want us to go to a party?”

“Never mind,” he sighed, his wit wasted. He held up a picture of one of the trucks in the convoy. “Can you melt bulletproof metal?”

She rolled her eyes. “Pssh. _Please_.”

“And melting bulletproof tires won’t be a problem either?”

“Humans are basically babies. I can fuck up anything they make,” she assured him.

“Can you do fire?” Kurt asked Blaine.

“I can _control_ fire that already exists,” he offered, the shrug he gave making it obvious that he was aware that it was not quite enough.

“What else can you do?”

Santana pinched Blaine's cheek and cooed, “Look pretty in a suit.”

He smacked her hand away. “What did you have in mind?”

It took a few hours (at least it felt like hours- hell had no clocks), but they managed to lay out a basic plan, the efficacy of which was yet to be seen. There were still details to decide on, but it turned out that Santana could only work with a human for so long before threatening to melt their eyeballs. So Blaine called it a day and sent Santana away, which left Kurt and Blaine alone.

“Are you hungry now?” Whenever there had been a quiet moment during planning, Blaine had asked Kurt if he was hungry. Or thirsty. Or tired. Or _cold_. He was taking his human-sitting duties very seriously.

His concern would have been cuter if he wasn’t a soul-sucking demon from hell.

“Yeah, okay. How about,” he waved his fingers through the air until he decided, “gourmet mac and cheese? With a creamy sauce and bacon and a crunchy breadcrumb crust.”

Without missing a beat, Blaine grabbed a bowl of mac and cheese out of thin air. “Like this?”

“Yes.” Since after this week he was probably going to be eating nothing but prison food, he’d decided to splurge, especially since Blaine could magic up anything he could possibly want. But with a fork halfway to his mouth, he stopped and asked, “This isn’t like the pomegranate, is it?”

“Sorry?”

“Persephone and Hades? The Greek myth-”

“Yeah, I’m familiar. It’s a bit late for that thought, though. You already ate breakfast.”

And that fruit parfait had been _delicious_.

Kurt peered at his bowl suspiciously. “But it’s not, right?”

“No.”

He settled onto the couch and began eating. It was heavenly, even better than when he made it himself. He’d closed his eyes to savour it, but he could still feel Blaine's gaze heavy upon him.

“You know, in the original myth, Persephone chooses to eat the pomegranate seeds,” Blaine said.

“Hm?” he asked with a mouthful of pasta.

“She wasn’t some dumb girl, she was a deity. She knew what she was agreeing to when she ate the food of the Underworld.”

Kurt swallowed. “Why would she want to marry Hades?”

“Power,” he replied. “She chooses to become queen of the Underworld. Not to mention, Hades was a pretty good husband, considering-”

“Considering he was ruler of the dead?” Kurt cut in, unimpressed.

“Considering Zeus cheated on Hera like every day and Hades only cheated twice,” he finished.

He raised a brow. “Are you trying to open my eyes about something, Blaine?”

He spread his hands, the picture of innocence. “Just that myths are commonly misinterpreted.”

“Uh huh,” he said, not impressed in the slightest. If Blaine expected Kurt to play Persephone, he was out of his mind.

However, being trapped in hell was a lot less terrible than PSAs and demon authorities had led him to believe. Of course, he wasn't being held captive by Blaine. He was sure the actual souls trapped for eternity weren’t sitting on an antique chesterfield eating the gourmet dish of their choosing.

They were probably still being ogled by demons, though.

 

* * *

 

Another day passed, and the plan was finalized, unless the Demon Police changed something in theirs.

That still left four days until Jessie was to be moved, and four days until Kurt could leave Blaine's room. Blaine could tell it was getting on his nerves.

Kurt’s long body was stretched across Blaine's couch as lounged in boredom. His head was hanging off the edge and his neck was teasing him. Blaine imagined crawling into his lap, rubbing his ass against Kurt’s crotch as he sucked his neck red with hickies. Kurt would untuck Blaine's shirt from his pants and his hands would crawl up his back, pressing him closer. And his moans- oh god, Kurt’s moans would fill his room once more and-

“What do you even do all day?” Kurt groaned in a completely different way. “I suddenly understand why you spent so much time watching me if this room is all you had to entertain yourself with.” He pointed a finger at him and added, “Not that boredom excuses your behaviour.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “And this room is only here for human benefit. Like I told you, my base form is almost gaseous. So I just kind of mingle with other demons when I’m here. I’m in the human realm a lot, too.”

 “Looking to strike deals with innocent humans?” he presumed. He arched his back like a cat stretching before sitting up.

Kurt looked at him expectantly, but Blaine had forgotten his question. He was sure he’d never been so distracted by the human form before.

Was he not attractive to Kurt? He didn’t expect him to have sex with him again, but he would appreciate a lustful stare or two. He certainly seemed to enjoy Blaine's body when he’d flipped him over and fucked him into the mattress last time.

Maybe he just wasn’t in the mood. Blaine had heard humans say that a lot.

“Is it not possible for you to have a conversation with me without your eyes glazing over like that?” Kurt’s mouth was set in a hard line.

“Sorry?”

“You should be,” he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s like I’m in a porno or something.”

“I’m sorry. You’re just- I told you how gorgeous you were last time, and I wasn’t lying.”

“Just as long as you’re not distracted by my gorgeousness when we rescue Jessie,” he said, voice dripping with derision.

Blaine laughed. “I’m sure-”

He was interrupted by a loud crack, followed by a flash of bright light. The white, sparkling glow died down to reveal a sullen Asian girl with multi-coloured hair.

“What the hell?” Kurt asked, rubbing his eyes.

“You can’t just keep humans trapped down here without making any deal,” the angel snapped. “It’s a violation of the Angel/Demon Agreement of-”

“I know,” Blaine cut in with a groan.

Kurt stood up and half-hid behind Blaine. “Blaine, who is that girl?”

“I am an angel, fair human. My name is Tina and I’m here to save you from your unjust imprisonment,” she said. “Unless you make a deal with a demon, in which case that is all your problem.”

Kurt peeked at Blaine. “Is she for real?”

He scowled. “I hate angels.”

A paper scroll appeared in Tina’s hand. “Kurt Hummel? You have been in hell for more than twenty four hours without making a deal. That is correct?”

“Uh yeah, but where would you be taking me in this rescue?” he asked, without coming out from behind Blaine.

“Um. Home?” She consulted her scroll. “New York.”

“Yeah, I can’t go home,” he said. “That’s why I’m down here.”

She narrowed her eyes at Blaine. “Why can’t he go home?”

He held out his hands. “Not me. Humans are screwing his shit up.”

 “Well, if you hadn’t talked to me when I was at the demon cage, the cops wouldn’t want me,” Kurt said.

Blaine had not taken his actions into account. He assumed he’d been blameless in this encounter, but yeah no, this was his fault.

Shit. Kurt was never going to like him.

“You’re here of your own free will?” she clarified.

“Well, I’d rather be here than in jail,” Kurt said. “For now.”

Tina frowned. The scroll popped out of her hand and in its place a dusty old tome appeared atop a stone pedestal. She started flipping through the book.

“Yeah, make yourself at home,” Blaine said sarcastically.

Fuckin’ angels.

“Is she really an angel?” Kurt asked quietly.

Blaine turned to face him, and they were standing so close to each other he could see the freckles dotting Kurt’s nose.

“Unfortunately,” he said in response to Kurt’s question.

“She’s wearing ripped skinny jeans,” he said in confusion.

“Yeah, and I’m wearing a bowtie,” he shrugged. “Myths are commonly misinterpreted.”

Kurt scoffed.

Tina the angel slammed the book shut. “Well, it doesn’t look like this arrangement is violating any laws. So I guess this is acceptable.”

“Oh, thanks for your permission,” Blaine said.

“This means that we will strike this case from record,” she said. “So Kurt Hummel, if conditions change to unbearable later, no angel will look into your situation again. Do you agree to these terms?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Um, I guess?”

“Please state your compliance with these terms with a firm yes or no.”

Kurt bit his lip. He looked Blaine up and down and Blaine straightened his shoulders, trying to look however Kurt wanted him to look. Trustworthy? Caring? Non-threatening?

“You’re not gonna pull some last minute bullshit, are you?” he asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t plan to.”

“Wow, that’s really reassuring.”

“It’s inadvisable to trust demons,” Tina put in, tapping her foot against the carpet.

“Did anybody ask you, _angel_?”

“Look, I have other duties to attend to. Kurt Hummel, I can take you away now or forget about you forever. Please choose.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Yes, I agree. I’ll stay here.”

“Okay.” She checked off her scroll and then disappeared in another flash of ostentatious white light.

Kurt ducked behind Blaine's shoulder to avoid the blinding glare and Blaine grinned.

“What’re you so happy about?” he asked after taking a step back.

“You’re staying,” he said.

“I was staying before. I have nowhere else to go.”

Which was true, but Blaine was still pleased. Kurt trusted him enough to not screw him over later. That was significant. Probably.

“Shouldn’t I have had to sign a release form or something?” he asked.

“Who’s going to doubt an angel?”

“You?” Kurt guessed.

“No, I know they tell the truth. They’re just annoying.”

“You know, I’ve never seen an angel before,” Kurt said. “I wasn’t even sure they existed.”

“They have no jurisdiction over the human realm, so they rarely venture there,” he said. “They’re kind of control freaks.”

“How do they have jurisdiction over the demon realm?”

“We’ve come to an agreement concerning our interaction with humans,” he said with a wave of his hand. “There might have been a war. We might have lost. It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, okay. The contempt is making more sense now,” Kurt laughed.

Blaine had made Kurt laugh. Kurt was actually smiling in his presence, and Blaine couldn’t remember ever being prouder than in that moment.

Okay, he needed to get a grip. Having nothing to focus on but Kurt all day and night was… _distracting_.

“Hey, why don’t we go somewhere?” Blaine said suddenly.

Kurt looked at him like he was stupid. “I think the reasoning behind that has been established.”

“Not New York. Somewhere. A different continent would probably be best.” Kurt didn’t say anything so Blaine started giving options. “South America? Antarctica? Oh, how about we go see the Aurora Borealis? Same continent, but it’s far enough away that nobody’s gonna catch you.”

His face scrunched in confusion. “You want to take me see the Northern Lights?”

“Unless you wanted to read another magazine on my couch,” he shrugged.

“I don’t have a coat.”

He rolled his eyes and held out an arm. “You wanna go?”

Kurt looked around the room before taking hold of his elbow. “I guess I could use a break.”


	4. Chapter 4

They smoked into existence on an empty dirt road running through a forest made up of towering pine trees. Snow speckled the ground in uneven patches, and the ground was hard beneath Kurt’s feet. The sun was also shining in his face and his teeth were chattering.

“Coat,” he ordered.

A dark blue parka appeared in Blaine's hand and he held it out for Kurt to slide his arms through.

He zipped it up to his chin and commented, “I can’t help but notice it’s daytime.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and eyed Blaine expectantly.

“Um yeah, I don’t actually control the earth’s rotation around the sun, so…”

“How are we supposed to see the Northern Lights if it’s not dark out?”

“We’re in the very north of North America. Daylight lasts like two minutes.” He magicked up a coat for himself and then nodded at the forest ahead of them. “There should be a cliff up here that’ll give us a good view.”

“Great. It’ll give me a chance to stretch my legs.” Which just drew Blaine's gaze down to Kurt’s legs.

With pursed lips, he headed into the forest.

The air was chilly but it was also fresh, which was a welcome change from the stuffiness of Blaine's room. Kurt took a deep breath, the crisp, cold air swirling all the way down into his lungs. He supposed he should enjoy all the time outdoors that he could get considering that after this week he’d probably be living in prison.

“Ugh,” he grunted just thinking about it.

“What? Did you twist your ankle?” Blaine asked.

“I’m fine,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. “I’m just going to go down in history as the idiot who helped the first captured demon escape. And my family is going to hate me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Blaine, I’m gonna go to prison. My family and friends will not be happy.”

He waved a hand, like his concern was ridiculous. “You were the first person your dad asked for when he woke up from a coma, and Rachel lied to the Demon Cops for you. I think they’ll stick around if you get arrested.”

Kurt hopped over a fallen tree in their path.

“I mean, those were good things, right?” Blaine asked when Kurt remained silent. “Good examples of human behaviour?”

“Yeah, they were actually.”

Blaine nodded to himself, pleased, and he smoked himself to the other side of the log.

“Wow, you’re really lazy,” Kurt laughed in disbelief.

He grinned at him, and Kurt wasn’t sure why he was so happy with that.

The light was bleeding out of the forest as the sun began to set, so Kurt continued walking at a faster pace.

“So my family will send me care packages in prison,” he said grimly. “That’s something to look forward to.”

“Just tell them you were possessed,” Blaine shrugged.

“But you don’t possess people.”

“We don’t possess people _often_ ,” he corrected. “And the Demon Police aren’t gonna know that. I’ve seen everything from adultery to murder get blamed on demonic possession. They’ll have to believe you.”

“That could work,” he admitted.

“You’re welcome.”

He held out a hand in a ‘slow down’ gesture. “I’ll thank you when it actually gets me out of prison.”

“Will you?” he asked curiously.

Kurt faltered. “What?”

“Will you talk to me again after this?”

He pressed his lips together tightly and jogged a few steps ahead. “Are we almost there?”

Blaine trudged up behind him, head down and pouting in the inky blue twilight of the forest.

“What do you want me to say? You’re a demon.”

“I know.”

“Great. So can you transport us to this cliff now? Because I’m gonna trip over something.”

Blaine put a hand on his back. Kurt was never going to get used to being smoke.

The last rays of the sun were just disappearing behind the horizon when they arrived on a cliff jutting out high above a dark blue lake.

“This is a great view,” Kurt said, hand on his hips as he looked out at the landscape. “How do you know about this spot?”

“I was here a couple decades ago,” Blaine mumbled.

“Are you gonna sulk the whole time?”

“I’m not sulking,” he sulked.

Kurt spread his hands out wide. “Blaine, you are a demon. You tried to take my soul.”

Blaine stopped being sorry for himself long enough to look confused. “What? When?”

“The night we met!” he said incredulously. “When you got pissed that I wasn’t expressing enough gratitude for the honour of sleeping with you.”

“Oh, yeah.” He shrugged, “I couldn’t have taken your soul without you making a deal anyway.”

“But I _felt_ it leaving my body.”

“Yeah but, it would never have come all the way out. It’s like…” He snapped his fingers a few times like that would help him explain. “A rubber band? It just pops right back in place after a certain amount gets pulled out. Why do you think demons have to make deals for human souls?”

Kurt gaped at him. “So, that was just- what? A power play? To scare me?”

“I was also really pissed.”

“Well _god forbid_ someone piss you off because they don’t show enough enthusiasm over the idea of using sex with a demon as payment to save their father’s life.” He ran a hand through his hair, and said, “God, you know how much that fucking scared me? It felt like I was _dying_.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well you fucking should be! Do you even understand why it upset me, or is that beyond your shitty grasp of human emotion?”

“Demons feel fear, Kurt,” he said with a bite to his tone. “And I have no excuse for what I did to you other than that I’m a demon, and that’s what we do. But I understand why you don’t want to see me again, for both practical and emotional reasons. So I’m sorry that me sulking pisses you off, but another emotion that demons can feel is sad, and I am _sad_.”

His voice trembled on the last work, and he turned his back to Kurt.

Despite himself, Kurt got roped in. “You’re sad?”

“Sad, disappointed, whatever,” he said dully. “I didn’t mean to expect anything, and then I did, and now I just feel stupid. So. I’m sorry.”

Kurt had never been more confused in his life because those fucking PSAs never warned him for this. Demons can _definitely_ feel emotion and they can tug at your heartstrings and that is fucking bullshit. Kurt didn’t want to feel guilty for making a demon sad.

How dare Blaine have feelings? More importantly, how dare he have feelings for _Kurt_?

Blaine's gelled hair suddenly took on an emerald sheen, and Kurt looked to the sky above them, in front of them, all around them. Beautiful waves of green light were leaking out of the stars into the dark night sky.

He placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder. “It’s starting.”

To the surprise of no one, Blaine set his attention on Kurt instead of nature’s most mysterious light show.

The half of his face that wasn’t bathed in shadows was green, which was disconcerting but not as bad as when his eyes were nothing but pitch black.

He still looked really fucking sad.

“Blaine, just watch this natural wonder with me, okay?” he sighed.

He nodded. “Whatever you want, Kurt.”

Kurt slid his arm around Blaine's shoulders, because he was cold and maybe also because he wanted Blaine to cheer up a bit. Blaine tucked himself into his side and the world was quiet as ribbons of light danced across the sky.

“Did you hate it?” Blaine asked after a while. “When we were together that night?”

Blood rushed to Kurt’s cheeks as he remembered the feeling of Blaine's eager body wrapped around him. He’d been in the middle of a dry spell when they had their encounter, so he’d gotten a little more enthusiastic than he’d expected he would be. But Blaine's little _uh uh uh_ noises that matched Kurt’s thrusts had kept him lying awake more than once in the months since.

He hoped Blaine couldn’t feel his whole body rise in temperature.

“No, I didn’t hate it,” he murmured.

“Good.”

There was a pop behind them as Santana appeared. Kurt had never heard a demon’s arrival before, but as soon as he saw her face he was sure the sound happened because she was frothing with rage.

“There you fucktards are,” she snapped. “I have been looking everywhere for you. How dare you jump off without telling me, we are in the middle of a rescue mission, this is no time for romantic dates in _Canada,_ we have to go!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Blaine asked after she’d finished her tirade.

“They’re moving Jessie tonight. Like now. We gotta jet, losers.”

“Now?” Kurt repeated.

“Did I fucking stutter?”

“But why?”

“Some religious crackpots tried to set his cage on fire. They’re moving him now before anyone else tries something as stupid as lighting up an iron cage.” She glared at them expectantly. “What’re you waiting for? New York. Now!”

 

* * *

 

Blaine and Kurt arrived in the shadows of trees in Central Park.

Behind them Santana whispered, “See, they’re already packing him away.”

Jessie’s cage was being lifted into an armoured truck, with at least fifteen armed guards overseeing the process.

“We need to get in position,” Kurt said.

“They’re still taking him to headquarters, right?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask them?” Santana said. “Better yet, stop asking stupid questions.”

“I’m sure they will,” Kurt said, ignoring her. “But if not, we’ll improvise.”

“And by ‘improvise’ I hope you mean kill everyone in sight.”

“You know I don’t.”

“Okay, come on,” Blaine said, taking hold of Kurt’s arm again. “Let’s go.”

“Remember, you have to land-” Kurt’s voice was almost drowned out by the sudden wind. “- _carefully_.”

Kurt’s grip tightened on Blaine's arm, for good reason. They were perched on top of a bridge, and while there was plenty of room on the vertical arch they were standing on, it was still very high up.

They planned to intercept the Demon Police coming in from Brooklyn, long before they boarded the boat to headquarters. Too many things could go wrong on open water, and their plan was already teeming with risks.

“Okay, I’m sitting down.” Kurt carefully lowered himself to the ground and crossed his legs beneath himself. Blaine joined him and put a hand on Kurt’s knee to keep them both invisible, on the off chance that someone looked up and saw their silhouettes lit up by the cable lights. Kurt glanced at his hand before looking at the bright traffic below them. “Okay, so. Watch. Bolt cutters. Taser.”

As Kurt listed the supplies they’d decided on beforehand, Blaine conjured them up into a pile beside them.

Kurt peered at the pocket watch and said, “If all goes as planned, they should arrive in about half an hour.”

Santana was following the convoy’s progress, and would alert them if there were any changes.

“Are you okay? Are you warm enough?” _Do you wanna put your arm around my shoulders again?_

“Surprisingly, this wind isn’t as cold as northern Canada,” he said dryly. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Kurt started opening and closing the bolt cutters and Blaine said, “Lucky we had this all planned out early, huh?”

“Yeah, let’s just hope that luck will hold out and the plan will actually work.”

Blaine squeezed his knee to reassure him, before immediately saying, “Sorry.”

He still didn’t know how much of his touch Kurt was comfortable with.

“It’s okay,” Kurt said. “I think we’ve established by now that you’re not gonna try anything without my permission.”

The weight of Kurt’s trust buoyed in his chest like a balloon. He’d still leave him, and that was okay, but maybe Kurt would look back on this rescue one day and remember Blaine fondly.

“What are you smiling about?”

“I just think I’m gonna miss you, is all.”

“You _think_ you’re gonna miss me?”

He shrugged. “We’ll see. I might stop missing you eventually.”

Kurt bit his lip and looked down at the cars passing beneath them. “Why do I always feel like you’re being so honest with me?”

“Probably because I am.”

“I thought demons were deceptive.”  He peeked at him slyly, “Or is that another myth commonly misinterpreted?”

“No, that’s true,” he said.  “But I never would have benefited from deceiving you, so I didn’t.”

“Oh.” He looked kind of put-out but Blaine was yet again confused by the complexities of human emotion.

On the ground below, NYPD cops started blocking off the bridge, forcing drivers to travel down to the lower level. It was a security measure Kurt had been very happy with. If he was unenthusiastic with the thought of hurting Demon Cops, then he absolutely forbade any harm coming to civilians. His blatant regard for human life kind of made sense to Blaine because sure- the continuation of your species is important. But on the other hand, the Earth was exploding with humans and they were going through natural resources at the speed of light.

A couple hundred dead on a bridge wasn’t gonna hurt anything.

“They should be here in ten minutes,” Kurt said. “And Santana should check in with us soon.”

Santana had to give Blaine fire for him to use. It burned hotter than earthen fire, so it would work better than using fire from a blowtorch, like Kurt had proposed while they were planning. Santana had almost laughed him out of the meeting for suggesting it.

Kurt turned so that all his attention was on Blaine. “Look, I don’t know if there’ll be time to talk after this- probably not. So I just wanted to thank you.”

Blaine was so baffled that he doubted he knew the correct definition of ‘thank you’ for a moment.

“For what? This is all my fault.”

“It’s not you I’m running from.”

“But if I hadn’t talked to you at the cage, the cops never would have been after you in the first place,” Blaine replied. “You said so yourself.”

“Well, I didn’t have to talk to you,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t actually blame you for that, Blaine. I mean, you helped me- you puffed me out of existence with you instead of leaving me behind. You did a lot of nice things that I never would have expected from a demon.” He closed his cold fingers around Blaine's hand and continued, “These past couple days could have been a lot worse than they were, and I want to thank you for making them bearable.”

Blaine shook his head slowly. “I just wanted you to like me. You shouldn’t be thanking me.”

Kurt smiled, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “By some crazy twist of fate, I do like you, Blaine.” He ducked his head and said, “And maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you stopped by to visit me every once in a while after this. If I don’t end up in prison, that is.”

He tried to keep the stupidly huge grin off his face, but he was not successful. “As long as you’re not wearing iron, I’ll break you out.”

He squeezed his hand. “I hope I won’t have to take you up on that offer.”

Santana appeared in a crouch beside Blaine. “Everything’s on schedule and- oh god, did I interrupt _another_ heartfelt moment between you two? Can you keep your dicks in your pants for just a little longer?”

Kurt scowled. “How many vans?”

“Only three, one less than we planned for. I probably won’t have to blow any up now,” she pouted.

“Great. Fire?” Kurt asked expectantly.

“Hey, don’t forget who’s in charge here, Meat Bag,” Santana said as two balls of fire grew in her hands. She pressed them together into one large sphere bigger than a beach ball and passed it to Blaine.

Kurt moved his hand to Blaine's back to keep invisible, but also leaned as far away as he could to save himself from the heat.

“Alright losers. You get the front tires, and I’ll melt all the doors shut. Think you can handle it?”

“Yes.” Blaine rolled his eyes.

Santana pointed a claw at Kurt. “Remember, all you gotta do is cut some iron, so if this falls apart it’s your fault.”

“That is false reasoning-” Kurt tried to argue.

“Shh, they’re coming.”

The first shiny black armoured van rolled onto the bridge. It was go time.

“Okay, I’m gonna take out the NYPD keeping watch on either side of the bridge, and when I give the signal, start blasting tires.”

“Wait, the Taser!” Kurt exclaimed, pressing it to her chest. It was the only way he’d agreed to let her incapacitate people.

Her annoyed groan was cut off halfway through by her blinking out of sight.

Kurt grabbed the bolt cutters and stood up along with Blaine. They watched silently as the vans made their way past the first arch to the middle of the bridge.

A small flame of light bloomed on the walkway behind the last car.

“Go!” Kurt shouted unnecessarily.

Following Santana’s signal, Blaine started rapidly shooting balls of fire at the front tires so they were stuck in the middle of the road. Santana bounced rapidly around the convoy, lobbing flames at the doors to melt the handles and render them unopenable.

When Blaine was out of fire, he took Kurt’s hand. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

They appeared at the back of the second truck, about ten feet away from the last one.

“Where’s Santana?” Kurt asked.

“At your service,” she quipped before blasting the fingerprint pad off the back door.

Blaine and Santana stood back and Kurt tugged the doors open.

 

* * *

 

So, Kurt never had to wonder what staring down the barrel of two rifles felt like.

In a word, terrifying.

Almost as terrifying as watching the head of the man who held one of the guns spin around on his neck until a _crack_ echoed through the back of the van. The body had barely thumped to the ground before the second guard’s head exploded in flame.

He yelped, jumping away from the van. “Guys!” he screeched at the demons behind him.

Blaine's hands were spread, and his eyes wide. “I panicked.”

“I enjoyed,” Santana smirked.

Powering through his horror, Kurt jumped into the van, careful not to step on either of the corpses littering the floor. The only way this mission was going to work is if they were fast. The Demon Cops trapped in the vans were undoubtedly already calling for back up. Kurt had no time to mourn lost lives.

“Can we still keep in touch?” Blaine called out hesitantly.

“Not the time!” He held his hand over his nose, trying not to gag on the smell of burnt human flesh. “Can you get them out of here?”

He focused on the cage in front of him as Blaine yanked a guard onto the road.

Kurt took a deep breath of determination, regretted it, and then crammed the bolt cutters around the lock that held a pair of glass, iron-laced doors together. He pushed down hard, forcing the lock open. He tossed it to the floor and banged on the second set of doors, these ones iron-barred.

The demon inside of the cage remained immobile. Maybe he was dead. Could demons die?

“How’s it going, Kurt?” Blaine asked anxiously.

“He’s not moving,” he replied, preparing to cut open the second lock. “He’s not faking, is he? He’s not gonna jump out and attack me when I open the doors?”

“No!” Blaine said. “Just get him to agree to the deal before you release him. But hurry!”

He broke open the lock. “Are they coming?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“There’s a helicopter!” Santana announced with delight.

Kurt knelt down next to Jessie, confused about why she was so happy until he heard the _whoosh_ of her flames.

“It’s goin’ down!” she cried.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered, yanking the blindfold and gag off of Jessie.

He moaned but didn’t open his eyes. His mouth was bright red, like he’d just eaten a whole box of cheap candy, ad his skin felt soft and mushy.

A huge splash sounded outside- the helicopter falling into the Hudson River.

Kurt slapped Jessie across the face.

“Ah, whuh?” His eyelids fluttered open. His pupils looked like they were dripping into his irises, which were an electric blue.

Kurt was very sure this demon was dying.

“He is not looking good,” Kurt called to Blaine.

“Same!” he replied just before a volley of bullets ricocheted off one side of the van.

“Shit!” He grabbed Jessie by the collar. “Jessie, I wanna make a deal!”

He opened his mouth and it seemed to take an eternity for him to mumble out, “A deal?”

“Yes. My name is Kurt Hummel. If I break you out of this cage I want you to release Rachel Berry from fulfilling her deal with you.”

He blinked as slow as molasses. “Rachel?”

“Yes, release her from honouring her contract and I’ll get you out of this cage!” Kurt shouted as Santana shrieked gleefully outside.

“Okay, fine,” he groaned. “Deal.”

Kurt didn’t have time for anything else. He snapped the chain connecting his manacles to the cage and dug his arms underneath Jessie’s armpits.

He dragged him out of the van onto the road, where the two corpses were piled. Everything smelled like burning- gasoline, metal, rubber, flesh.

“Let’s go!” Kurt exclaimed.

Blaine looked over his shoulder from where he was hiding behind the third truck, now somehow laying on its side only a few feet from where they were.

“He’s still got those manacles on,” he said.

“So?”

“So they’re iron! I can’t do jack shit with iron, Kurt!”

“You can’t transport him?”

“Jack. Shit.” A Demon Cop crept around the corner of the van Blaine was leaning against, trying to get a good shot. Blaine had a better one, and shot him in the chest with a semi-automatic rifle.

“You’re using a gun?” Kurt asked incredulously.

He toed at one of the corpses at his feet. “Better used on these guys than on you.” He checked the other side of the van for approaching hostiles and said, “And I know you said not to hurt them but- what’re you waiting for, get the iron off him!”

Kurt leapt back into the van to grab the bolt cutters he’d left behind, but he already had a bad feeling about them. They were too clunky- the manacles were three inches wide. He clumsily tried to get the bolt cutter between Jessie’s wrist and the manacle, like he was trying to cut through a wristband, but it was no use.

“I need something else, Blaine,” he said.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know!”

“I can’t summon something when you don’t know what it is,” he replied in irritation.

As Kurt wracked his brain for a useful tool, an explosion rocked the bridge.

“What was-?”

“Santana is lighting everything on fire, I think she hit a gas tank,” he said quickly.

Speak of the devil- er, demon.

“This is fun!” Santana enthused, rubbing her hands together. “Blaine, why did I stop participating in human wars? It’s been so boring.”

A bullet whizzed past her shoulder. She disappeared, Kurt screamed, and Blaine spun around to fire at the shooter.

“What’re you yelling about? They’re only firing iron-secreting bullets,” Blaine asked once he was huddled behind the van again.

“Yes?” Kurt didn’t understand the question.

“Iron’s not gonna hurt you, you have iron in your blood already.”

Kurt violently shook his head. “That’s not the same! If a liquid metal ends up in my veins, I will suffer horribly and then die.”

Blaine stared at him in shock. “How do humans survive?”

Santana reappeared between the two of them. “Okay, so wars were more fun when humans didn’t have bullets that could actually hurt me,” she admitted. “We can get out of here now.”

“Oh, wow thanks, we were just waiting for you!” Kurt cried.

“ _So_ glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Blaine said. “Are you sure you don’t want blow up a few more vehicles?”

She held her hands up to ward off the onslaught of sarcasm. “What is the problem?”

“Blaine, can I have a saw, please?”

Kurt held up his new handsaw, held up Jessie’s wrist, and very pointedly dragged the sharp teeth along the iron. “Are you seeing the problem now?”

“Shit! Well get those off him!”

Kurt had to literally swallow back his rage.

The scene was suddenly lit harshly from above. “ _This is the New York Bureau of Demon_ _Affairs_ ,” a loud voice announced. “ _We have you surrounded_.”

“That would be another helicopter,” she said. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh god, I’m so going to jail for this,” Kurt moaned, futilely sawing at Jessie’s manacle.

“That’s not working,” Blaine said.

“I’d noticed.”

He dug his fingers into his hair and groaned, “Why don’t you know how to do this?”

He threw the saw to the ground. “I don’t know, I guess I thought if I’d ever need to know how to get handcuffs off someone, I’d have the internet!” He pulled out his phone. “Do you think the cops will wait for the YouTube video to buffer?”

The scene went dark, the helicopter spotlight no longer illuminating them. Then there was a deafening explosion, and Blaine's horrified face was lit for another moment.

Santana came back, face streaked with soot. “Kinda wanna get out of here!”

“Santana!” Blaine screamed.

A helicopter door crashed on top of the van Blaine had been using as cover. Kurt turned around, even though he really didn’t want to, and saw the flaming body of the helicopter sliding out of the sky towards them.

With a hugely annoyed groan, Blaine stood up and swept the helicopter in the direction of the river. The tail of it nicked the arch they’d been sitting on less than ten minutes ago, and the resulting metal-on-metal screech made Kurt cover his ears. Shards of red-hot shrapnel cascaded downward and burned through his jeans.

The helicopter crashed into the water and Santana shrugged widely. “Okay, that might have been on me. I let it get a little too close.”

If looks could kill.

“Santana,” Blaine began, fists clenched.

“Never mind! Just cut off his fucking hands, we need to get out of here,” Kurt said.

Blaine and Santana shared a short glance before a katana appeared in each of their hands.

“Hey, no,” Jessie mumbled as they laid his arms out flat on the pavement.

He didn’t get a chance to scream as they sliced though his wrists. Santana had Jessie gone in an instant.

Blaine took a moment to grin at Kurt, which was a mistake.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt caught sight of a blur of silver on a direct path to his chest.

Blaine did too.

He wasted a second reaching for Kurt, but he was too far away to close the distance between them. He appeared in front of Kurt in an instant, but the bullet lodged itself in his back before he could transport them away.

Blaine's eyes bulged, and Kurt froze, his heart stopping mid-beat.

“Ow,” Blaine said weakly.

_Thunk_.

Another bullet hit him, jerking him forward into Kurt’s arms.

“Fuck. Shit, I can- I can dig them out, turn around,” Kurt said, throat tight.

_Thunk_.

_Thunk_.

Blaine curled his arms around his torso as he wheezed into Kurt’s neck.

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” Kurt said, cradling the back of his head. “You saved me, you’re gonna be fine.”

Blaine tightened his hold on Kurt and ground out, “You gotta tell them- tell them you were possessed.”

“Blaine, you’re fine,” he repeated even as Blaine's skin went mushy against his palm, just like Jessie’s had been after three days in that iron cage. His pupils might have been doing that weird melting thing too, but Kurt couldn’t really tell through the hot tears in his eyes. He hiccupped through a deep breath. “You’re fine.”

“Don’t cry.” He lifted his head and said, “You’ll be okay.”

He sobbed. “Blaine, _please_. You’re fine.”

“Actually, Kurt, this really hurts.”

Kurt kissed him, his wet lips sliding against Blaine's for just a moment before he disintegrated, turning into smoke and drifting away on the wind.

 

* * *

 

The Demon Police had been pretty sceptical about Kurt’s claim of possession, but they had no way to prove him wrong. Even so, he wasn’t released from interrogation for two weeks, and it would have been longer if his dad hadn’t leaned on some friends in Congress. His dad’s influence was also the reason why he wasn’t riddled with bullet wounds as soon as Blaine disappeared and no longer functioned as an impromptu human shield.

Kurt didn’t tell his dad anything he hadn’t told the Demon Cops, but Burt wasn’t dumb. He didn’t push Kurt for more information though, which Kurt was grateful for. Burt had a way of getting Kurt to spill truths he never intended to reveal, and Burt did not need to know how hard Kurt had fallen for a demon.

He told Rachel everything that was relevant to her situation and even though he hadn’t revealed everything, she was still pissed. ‘Reckless’ ‘dangerous’ and ‘irresponsible’ were all words she threw at him after he told Rachel what he’d done for her.

He wanted to distract himself with work, but when he tried to show up at Vogue the Monday following his release, Isabelle sent him straight back home so he could ‘recuperate’ from his ‘traumatizing ordeal’.

So, with Burt and Carole back in Lima and with Rachel at Broadway, Kurt had a silent apartment and a restless mind.

He was flipping aimlessly through channels and considering putting on some movie with Meg Ryan so that he could justify his crying if Rachel came home early when he felt a sharp slap on the back of his head.

“I transport out of there thinking that you two would do the same,” Santana snapped. Kurt spun around on the couch to face her, but she’d already moved in front of him in an instant. “Was that stupid of me? To expect that either of you would show an ounce of common sense?”

“Santana,” he said, shocked. “Is- is he okay?”

“Would I be here if he was?” she asked with a sneer. “What the fuck happened after I tore outta there with Jessie?”

Kurt swallowed past a hard lump in his throat. “They shot him. Four times.” His gaze fell to the floor. “He saved me.”

She clasped her hands together and snarled, “Aw, how cute! Now he’s gonna sleep for a couple hundred years and all I got out of the deal is Jessie!”

“The two of you also killed like fifty people,” he muttered.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Fuck, I can’t believe I went through all of this just to save Jessie. I mean, yeah- solidarity and pride and keeping the secrecy of demonic existence too, but _whatever_.”

“Is Jessie alright?” Kurt asked because he didn’t know what else to say.

She waved a hand. “Like you care about his wellbeing.”

“Well, Blaine died saving him, so-”

“Just because your poorly constructed human body won’t survive to see him again doesn’t mean he’s dead,” she cut him off.

No, but he was as good as dead to Kurt.

He fiddled with the sleeve of his sweater and then asked tentatively, “When you see him again, can you tell him-?”

“Meat Bag, I’m not even gonna remember your existence in a hundred years.” She laughed to herself. “And neither will Blaine.”

She vanished, and Kurt barely had the _When Harry Met Sally_ DVD playing before he was sobbing on the couch.

 

* * *

 

Kurt demanded that Isabelle let him back to Vogue the next week. He needed to return to his normal life, the one that was free of demons except for the PSAs that were full of crap and the occasional news report that he never paid attention to anyway.

He consoled himself with the knowledge that Blaine was fine- or would be fine at least. He was drifting along in hell with no pain or problems and one day he would wake up and continue on with his existence no worse for wear. Kurt would be long dead, but that would be okay.

Or so he kept repeating to himself as he made brownies alone and listened to his Absolutely-No-Love-Songs-Allowed playlist, which Rachel didn’t understand why he had because he didn’t know how to tell her that he’d fallen in love with-

A loud crack sounded behind him, like thunder had gone off in the middle of his kitchen. He spun around, getting real annoyed with random supernatural entities popping into his apartment without so much as a knock, and then he saw who had appeared.

The bowl of brownie batter slipped out of his hands and Blaine smiled at him softly.

“Hey,” he said with a little wave. He was wearing all white, from his soft-looking sweater to his bright slacks and shining shoes. “We left the whole keeping-in-touch thing on an affirmative, right?”

Shaking himself out of his shock, Kurt raced around the kitchen island and threw his arms around Blaine's neck.

 “You were dead?” he asked incredulously.

Blaine hugged him back, his hands warm and sure on his shoulders.

“Turns out,” he said, face buried in Kurt’s neck, “when a demon falls in love with a human, they became an angel.”

Kurt pulled back just far enough to gape at him.

“I know, right? _Bullshit_.”

He let out a shocked laugh to offset the tears forming in his eyes. “I’m so sorry that your love for me turned out to be such an inconvenience to you,” he said.

Instead of responding, Blaine took Kurt’s face in his hands and pressed his lips to his- for only a moment before he pulled back to ask, “This is okay, right? I don’t want to make you-”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he said before yanking him back to his mouth.

Blaine let out a sigh and melted into Kurt’s arms.

They’d kissed before, but once was under duress and once was when Blaine was dying and his lips had literally disappeared from under Kurt’s. This was the only time it felt right and whole, like Kurt was getting put back together instead of torn apart.

“No but.” Blaine pulled back and Kurt whined at the sudden loss. He squeezed Kurt’s hip and said, “Sorry, it’s just that angels don’t get to fuck around like demons do. I have a schedule to follow and I’m not even allowed to be here. I don’t know when they’re gonna notice I’m gone, but they could be popping me back to the angel realm any minute now.”

“Any minute?” Kurt repeated, aghast.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry-”

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?”

Kurt deftly unbuttoned his own shirt as he said, “I want to have sex with you. Not as a term of some demon deal and scared out of my mind, but because I love you and you saved me and you died and I thought I was never gonna see you again.”

Blaine's eyes went wide, like he never expected to ever see anything as amazing as Kurt.

“I love you too,” he breathed.

Kurt smiled. “I know. Now get naked.”

His sweater got caught around his head in his haste and Kurt helped him tug it off the rest of the way. He dropped it on the floor and then reattached their mouths as he undid Blaine's fly.

He started shoving Blaine's pants down his hips and then asked, “Hey, can’t you do this faster than I can?”

Blaine heaved an annoyed sigh. “I don’t have that power anymore.”

“What?”

“I’m on some sort of angel probation until I prove I can use the power ‘responsibly’.” He used finger quotes to express the depths of his disdain.

Kurt yanked Blaine's pants down to his ankles. “We’ll just have to make do.”

Blaine used Kurt’s shoulder for support as he stepped out of his pants. He reached for his lips and Kurt took his hand to lead him towards the living room. Blaine didn’t stop kissing him until Kurt sat down against the arm of the couch.

He trailed his hands down Kurt’s chest to the button of his pants and fumbled it open. “Ugh, I’m gonna see what I can do about turning back into a demon. This is ridiculously overcomplicated.”

Kurt laughed and lifted his ass to help the struggling Blaine get his jeans and underwear down his legs. “These aren’t even my tightest pants.”

Kurt was finally naked and Blaine was kneeling between his legs, looking extremely comfortable there.

“Okay, well that could have been worse.” Pleased with his progress, Blaine smoothed his warm palms along Kurt’s inner thighs. “Maybe I could even try being a human.”

“Is that possible?” Kurt asked, stopping his attempt to discreetly shift his erection closer to Blaine's lips. This was an important conversation that unfortunately couldn’t wait because Blaine might disappear at any moment. However, that meant that time was of the essence in regards to the naked part of the situation, too.

“I have no idea.”

“Okay, well keep me updated.” He coughed pointedly and asked, “Are we done talking now?”

Blaine dropped a hot kiss to his hipbone, cheek grazing the side of Kurt’s erection. “Is that a hint?”

“You said we didn’t have a lot of time, Blaine,” he said, twisting his fingers through his hair.

He smiled up at him. “I’m so glad you love me.”

And then he downed Kurt in one go.

“Oh my god!” he yelped.

Blaine raised an eyebrow at him as if to say ‘No time to waste’ and started working his mouth over Kurt’s cock.

Kurt let out a shuddering breath and couldn’t help but pump his hips up into Blaine's mouth. Blaine moaned, encouraging him. Kurt tilted his head back and allowed himself to fully enjoy all of Blaine's efforts to please him. The first time they’d had sex had felt good, but Kurt had been so distracted, so conflicted. Now there were no conflicts, just pleasure. And love.

And a time limit.

He tugged Blaine off by his hair and said, “C’mon up here, I wanna feel more of you.”

His plump red lips spread into a smile. “Whatever you say.”

He hopped to his feet and started kissing him before Kurt could even pull him onto the couch. Blaine chased after his mouth as they fell backwards, landing on the cushions in a pile of mismatched limbs.

Neither of them were willing to stop kissing or groping in order to arrange themselves in a more comfortable position, so it took a few minutes until Blaine was settled in Kurt’s lap. His thighs were warm and solid against Kurt’s as he slid forward closer so that their cocks lined up against each other’s.

“Mm, where’s your lube?” Blaine moaned against his lips.

“In my room.”

“Why?”

“You want me to keep it in the living room I share with Rachel?”

Blaine twisted his hips down against Kurt’s and groaned. “No, I want to be able to summon it to my hand.”

He grabbed Blaine's ass, encouraging him to grind his cock against his and panted, “Well, welcome to the real world.”

Blaine spit on his hand and wrapped his fingers around the two of them. “Fuck that.”

“Oh, fuck _me_ ,” Kurt sighed, bucking up into Blaine's hold.

Blaine kissed him, open-mouthed and wet, as he moved above him. Kurt held Blaine close, one arm around his back and the other hand on his ass, squeezing in synch with the roll of his hips. Their movements were quick, jerky. They didn’t know how long they had together and didn’t have the luxury of trying to make it last.

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine whined, his grip tightening between them.

Kurt dug his fingers into his shoulder, panting into his ear, “That’s it. C’mon, Blaine.”

Blaine's head dropped to his shoulder and he moaned into Kurt’s neck as he came. He shifted back and used his come for lube as he stroked Kurt faster, tighter. His breathing quickened as Blaine mouthed lazily over his throat.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he said, lips hot on his skin. “Wanna make you come, Kurt. Love you so much.”

Kurt came with a cry, his grip tightening on Blaine. After a moment, he found Blaine's lips and they began to exchange slow kisses. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine tightly, keeping his soft skin beneath his palms because he expected him to disappear at any moment.

When Blaine was still with him a minute later, he lifted his head from Kurt’s shoulder and asked, “So what’s new with you?”

He chuckled quietly and said, “Well, I’m not in prison, so pretty good.”

Blaine's sweaty face lit up with a grin. “Possession worked?”

“Possession worked.”

“I think you owe me a thank you, then,” he said smugly.

Kurt rolled his eyes but didn’t get a chance to respond before Blaine vanished and he was left alone and cold in his apartment.

He sighed. “Thank you, Blaine.”

Blaine popped back into the room and rushed out, “You’re welcome. I’m sorry. I love you!” in one breath before disappearing again.

Kurt smiled. They’d make it work.


End file.
